The Blue Rose
by Lady Schmetterling
Summary: The detective Sherlock Holmes and his friend John Watson must solve a crime that victimised a respectable chief-constable. A crime that seems more complex than it seems. At the same time, they know a mysterious girl, Nadia Evans, who will help Sherlock to solve the crime... Or something more?
1. First Sight

**Hello, everyone. This is my first fic, from the British series Sherlock. As I am Portuguese, I'm sorry if there are some mistakes. I hope you like it. Enjoy!**

Chapter One

FIRST SIGHT

Another night in London. Finally, Nadia Evans' shift was over and she could go home and have a good night sleep. She couldn't guess the insolit and terrible happening that would change her life forever. Not that her life has been normal. She was never considered normal. For once, she wished to not know the beauty salon where some of her 'friends' did their manicure just by looking at their nails or that a spot of chocolate on some shirt was made by a _croissaint_ that was baked in Paris.

She was not popular in Saint Bartolomew's Hospital. The doctors and the other nurses didn't particularly like her. When they worked with her, they were cold and hard to her. It was usual for her to listen the whispers of 'freak', 'Miss Know-it-all' or even worse things.

Nadia didn't think that she was pretty. She was a 25 year-old young girl, with long dark hair, white skin, big brown eyes and thin body, hidden behind her jeans and large shirts with messages and hoods. Her late mother used to say that she looked like Snow White. She lived in a exiguous but confortable flat in Church Street.

Finally she came to her district. Nadia didn't know why but she had a bad feeling. A very bad feeling. Everytime she felt that she had to stay away of a person or a place, she usually found out that she was right.

Like in that moment. Nadia passed by an dead-end near her house, when she saw a man lying down. She came closer to help him. But to her horror, there was blood on the right side of his head. Nadia wanted to scream but it didn't came any sound.

Dr John Watson would think that someone has been shot on 221B Baker Street if he didn't know that was his friend/flatmate/colleague, the detective - or better said, 'consulting detective' - Sherlock Holmes, firing at the wall. He always did that when he didn't have a case. And when that happened, the expression 'bored to death' fit perfectly on him.

"Could you stop that, please?" John complained. "Do want the whole Scotland Yard to come here?"

"And what they would do when they find out that I was just shooting at a wall?"

"Mrs Hudson will be furious." John moaned. He got used to Sherlock's excentricities. "Any case?"

"No." Sherlock groaned. "Sadly."

"Yes, things are calm."

"Too calm!" Sherlock sat on the armchair, depressed. "Not a murder! Not even a simple robbery! Boring! Pure monotony!"

"Sherlock… Is that tobacco?" John confirmed it when he saw the four cigarette butts on the ashtray. "I can't believe it!"

"You can't believe that I _smoked_ them or you can't believe that I _found_ them?"

"Right. Honestly, I'll not ask you how did you find out where I hide them. What about your nicotine patches?"

"Well, it seems not working at all." Sherlock shrugged.

"You smoked four cigarrettes, Sherlock! _Four_!"

"So?"

"So…" John gave up. Sherlock was a hopeless case. "I'm going out. Don't wait for me."

"A date with your new girlfriend?"

Actually, John was currently dating Mary Morstan. They first met a few months ago. If someone else did that question, John would ask how did he know. But he was Sherlock Holmes, the famous genius sleuth.

"Guilty." John admited. "Her name is Mary, if you don't it yet."

"Oh, I know. And I also know that she is blond, rich and she likes _stracciatella_ ice-cream."

Sherlock's mobile phone rang, annuncing a message received. From Lestrade.

_There was a murder in Church Street. Might interest you. _

"Sorry, John, but I think you have to change your plans."

"A case?"

"Murder." Sherlock assented, with a michievious smile and delighted, like a child going to an amusement park. "Come! We have work!"

They were going downstairs when…

"SHERLOCK HOLMES! DID YOU FIRE AT THE WALL AGAIN?"

"My apologies, Mrs Hudson!" Sherlock said with an innocent face. "But now we are going out! We talk about it later!"

"We talk about it when I put that on the rent, young man." The old landlady said. "These boys!"

Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, of the Scotland Yard, awaited near the police cars that surrounded Church Street. With him, was sargent Sally Donovan and Anderson, the foresic. Lestrade admired Sherlock and his capacities as a detective, although it frustrated him - and the other policemen - that Sherlock was always a step ahead on the investigations. But they had no other choice. Sherlock has been very useful when the Yard didn't know what to do about a murder. Which was always.

"Hello, freak." Sgt Donovan saluted.

"Hi, Sally." Sherlock replied cordially. "I hope that Anderson's wife doesn't know that you were in their house while she was absent."

"Can you please do that to solve the crime and not to gossip?" Anderson protested.

"All right, all right! But next time you sleep with Sally, ask her to change perfume, so you won't smell like that." Sherlock said. "So, who is he?"

"Jack Sullivan." Lestrade answered. "49 years old. Chief constable. He was shot on the right side of his head. There are no witnesses."

"A chief constable?" Sherlock inquired. "You were right. This might interest me."

"I knew him. He was a very good man." Lestrade said. "The best of us. All of us admired him. The question is: What was he doing here? At this time? He was off and he doesn't live in this parts."

"He was meeting someone." Sherlock answered, picking a mobile phone from the victim's pocket as he was examining him accurately. "Look: 'Midinght. Church Street. Come alone.' The number is unknown. There are no signs of gunpowder on him, so the bullet was shot at distance…"

"We already heard that." Lestrade said.

"Say that again?"

"We already heard that." Lestrade repeated. "That girl told us."

He pointed to a young girl, covered by a blanket, visibly shocked.

"That girl?" John inquired.

"And how did she come to that conclusion?" Sherlock asked. "Has she seen or heard anything?"

"She said she didn't."

"Did she know the victim?"

"No."

"Excuse me." Sherlock rushed to the girl. "May I have a word with you, Miss…"

"…Evans. Nadia Evans." The girl said.

Sherlock stared at her. "Which hospital?"

Nadia gazed him. "Excuse me?"

"I asked you which hospital. Your delicate hands with long narrow fingers, your rings round the eyes and the white gown on your bag show me clearly that you are a nurse."

"Saint Bartolomew's." Nadia answered.

"Really? I go there very often. How have we never met?" Sherlock asked.

"Maybe because when you go to St. Bart's, you go directly to the morgue." She said with a forced smile. "Nice to meet you personally, Mr Sherlock Holmes."

They shaked hands with timidness. "Nice to meet you too, Miss Evans." He said. "Detective Inspector Lestrade told me about how you concluded that the bullet was shot by distance. An excellent deduction, I may say."

The girl said nothing.

"Come."

Nadia followed him. So that was the famous Sherlock Holmes, the great detective, the genius of deduction. Nadia has already heard about him - Who didn't? - and his deductive powers. But use them with her? Sherlock Holmes himself? That was another story.

DI Lestrade was already impatient. "So?"

"I haven't finished yet. Give me some minutes." Sherlock said.

"More?"

"Just give me some minutes!" Sherlock demanded.

"Okay." Lestrade said, resigned.

"What are you going to do this time, freak?" Donovan inquired.

"Shut up! I'm working!" Sherlock said. "Miss Evans, you said that you didn't heard the shot, right?

"Right."

"How long is he dead, John?"

"One hour, maximum."

"Someone who passed by whould hear a shot. That means that the killer used a silencer."

"Are you sure?" Anderson asked.

"Of course. It wasn't with his own gun."

"How do you know?"

"Please, Anderson!" Sherlock muttered. "Can you make a good use of your neurons just for one second? He was a chief constable! He must have a gun!"

"We didn't find any gun." Anderson said.

"That is true." Sgt Donovan confirmed. "We didn't find it anywhere. And we searched Nadia Evans, who found the body. She was clean."

"So the murderer took it." John said.

"Exactly. But why, if he or she had a gun?" Sherlock asked, almost to himself.

Near the body was a flower. A blue rose.

"Well, well… What do we have here?" Sherlock said. "A blue rose!"

"Strange." John said. "A blue rose? _Blue_? That doesn't exist."

"In nature." Sherlock clarifyed. "The blue roses are actually genetically manipulated roses. The researchers insert a blue plant pigment, the science makes it's magic and _voilá_! We have a blue rose."

"Yeah, right. How interesting. And what has that to do with the murder?" Anderson mocked.

"Everything!" Sherlock replied. "Each flower has its meaning. The Japanese call it _Hanakotoba_. It's a code. A message. We only must know which."

"A blue rose is a symbol of prosperity for those who seek it. It is frequently associated to royal blood. In some cultures it means mystery, attaining the impossible or love at first sight." Nadia answered, while they listened to her, open-mouthed. "My mother taught me that. I have one tattooed on my right foot. And my mother too."

"Right." Sherlock said, also surprised. "Now, the bullet was shot… from where? There are footprints here." Sherlock took his magnifying glass from his pocket. "From him. Italian shoes. Size 7'5. And here are Miss Evans' footprints. Tennis shoes, size 6. She went down on her knees, near the body. Jack Sullivan was in front of the dead-end. According to the wound on the right side of his head, the bullet came from… there!" He pointed to the only window on the crime scene. "Let's take a look."

They leave the dead-end and Sherlock rang the bell.

"Yes?" A lady opened the door."

"Excuse me; can you tell us who lives on the 1st floor?" Sherlock inquired.

"Nobody lives there." The lady said. "There was a couple but they moved a month ago."

"The door was forced." Sherlock noticed.

"What?"

"Who has the keys?

"I do. I am the landlady."

"May I borrow them for a moment and go there?"

"Well… Of course."

They entered. The house was completely empty, without any furniture or belongings.

"Footprints!" Sherlock noticed. "Miss Evans, tell me: What kind of shoes are these?"

"Boots." She answered, observing the footmarks.

"Man's?"

"Yes."

"Size?"

"7'5."

"Is he tall? Short?"

Why was he doing all that questions, if he, no doubt, knew the answers to all of them? Did he want to test her?

"Tall."

"Correct. He is 6 feet tall. And how do you know that?"

"Because…"

"Because of the length of his stride!" Sherlock interrupted her, fascinated. "Brilliant! Brilliant, indeed!"

Sherlock followed the footsteps which leaded to a small room with a window. He could see the dead-end through it.

"And here, gentlemen, is where the bullet was shot!" Sherlock announced. "We know how the crime was committed. Now, we must find who did it!"

"May I go home?" Nadia asked.

"Yes." Sherlock said.

Lestrade gave her a card. "Miss Evans, if you remember anything that can help, please call us. The number is on the card."

"Sure. Thank you. Goodbye."

She mounted her bicycle, looking askance to Sherlock Holmes. He looked her fixedly. Without losing an instant and trying to avoid his glance, she went away.

"All right. That's all. We start the investigations tomorrow." Lestrade said.

Sherlock and John took a taxi back to 221B Baker Street. Sherlock was lost on his thoughts. Who was that girl? He never met someone with such capacities of deduction, except himself, his brother Mycroft and Moriarty, the worst enemy that he ever faced.

"That girl…" Sherlock said. "…is interesting."

"Interesting?" John questioned. "Did you hear her? She was doing your thing! Quite intriguing, don't you think?"

"Yes. No doubt." Sherlock agreed. "A dead chief constable, a flower that means mystery and a girl with deductive powers. I have a feeling that we will have some fun."


	2. The Science of Deduction

**Hi, everyone. Here is the second chapter. Enjoy!**

Chapter Two

THE SCIENCE OF DEDUCTION

Sherlock was an assiduous presence in Saint Bartholomew's mortuary. That was one of the motives why he loved his job. To solve puzzles, enigmas; to uncover the unknown. On that moment, the enigma was the murderer of that man, Jack Sullivan.

And, as always, he counted on John and his favourite pathologist, Molly Hooper. Their eyes were glued to the computers, microscopes and glass tubes.

"As you said, there were no marks of powder on him, so the bullet was shot by distance. The ballistics said that from an automatic."

"I see… "

"It's a disposable mobile phone." Lestrade said, coming in the mortuary with a mobile phone on a plastic bag. "We already tracked it."

"Where have you found it?"

"On a dustbin, precisely on the crime scene." Lestrade said.

"Here is his wallet." Molly announced.

"It seems that nothing was stolen. ID, credit cards… It's all here." Sherlock noticed, examining chief constable's belongings.

"We found a note." Lestrade said.

"Perhaps that note will tell us something." Sherlock opened the paper that was folded into four.

_We need to talk, Sullivan. It's about Nadia._

Below, there was a picture of a scorpion.

"What does that mean?"

"That is what we have to find out." Sherlock said. "Nadia…"

"Who is Nadia?" Molly asked.

"The girl!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Her name was Nadia! Nadia Evans!"

"The girl who found the body?" John asked.

"Exactly!" Sherlock said, as it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Do you think she has something to do with the murder?"

"She may not be the murderer, but there's a connection. There was a blue rose beside Jack Sullivan, right? She said that she has a blue rose tattooed. And the note refers to a girl named Nadia. She is Nadia."

"It may be a coincidence." John suggested.

"John, there's a thing I learned during my job and that is there are no coincidences." Sherlock declared. "Lestrade, take the mobile phone and the note to analysis and see where it came from. We have to look for a florist."

"How do you know that it came from a florist?" Molly asked.

"Look at the stem. It was cut by a pruning shears, not rooted out. The cut is perfect. Conclusion: The rose came from a florist. And there are not so many florists who sell blue roses, right?"

On Church Street, Nadia was on her bedroom. She loved her job, but on that day, she would give everything to stay in bed. She had a sleepless night. Nadia guessed that she would have nightmares for a week.

Nadia took a deep breath, forcing herself to believe that she was in her own bedroom, decorated with pastel colours. On her bedside table was a picture of her deceased mother, smiling by her side. Did she know, in heaven, how Nadia missed her? How she need her, especially on that moment?

She checked her mobile phone. There was a message received.

_When you have free time, come to meet me. You know where. SH_

Those initials… Of course, it was Sherlock Holmes who texted. What did he want from her? Something about the detective made her feel uneasy. She tried not to think about that strange man and, above all, about the murder. She got herself ready, took breakfast and went out, riding her bicycle, on way to Saint Bart's.

She loved to take care about the patients. And they loved her and her attention to them. Maybe her deductions helped a bit, but she didn't care about it. Although she was a little clumsy, she did her job very efficiently. Besides, it made her feel useful, better with herself.

Nadia went to the pharmacy to get some painkillers for a patient. It was the only thing that she hated to do on her job. And she had her reasons.

"Bad night, Nadia?"

Hugh Smith, the Saint's Bart's pharmacologist and the most annoying idiot she ever met. He never left her alone, despite Nadia said him every time that she would have nothing with him, even if he was the only man on earth.

"Yes. I had a bad night. So, don't annoy me." Nadia said, bitterly.

"Oh, come on, darling! What about if we go for a drink to cheer you up?"

"Thank you, but I must refuse." Nadia said, politely. "Jessica wouldn't like to see you with me, especially when she bought a new lipstick on purpose for your next date. I know that she's not your girlfriend; however, she thinks that will change. Just don't let her know that you spent last time with some other girl and when I say 'spend the night', you know what I'm talking about."

Hugh laughed ironically. "I forgot your magic powers, my little witch."

"These are not magic powers, it's just pure reasoning." She replied. "But you don't know what that is. I will not bother to explain it to you."

"All right, baby." Hugh said, hiding his frustration. "Anyway, when you change your mind…"

"I will never change my mind, Hugh." Nadia ensured. "Just give me the painkillers."

"Ok. Bye, baby."

"Hugh, normally I'm not rude but if you don't stop that, I have to tell you to piss off!" Nadia answered back and she walked away.

On 221B Baker Street, Sherlock searched on his computer.

"The killer wore gloves. So there were no fingerprints. We must work with what we have and that is enough."

"Enough?" John said. "You only have a blue rose, his mobile phone - and we don't even know who called him - and a girl with capacities of deduction."

"Believe me, John: If you _think_, you can go somewhere. Even with lack of material." Sherlock declared. "For instance the florist has no website, so that means that the owner is someone old with few acknowledgments of technology. We have to look somewhere else, at the old fashion way."

"Sherlock…"

"Not now, Mrs. Hudson. I'm busy."

"But there is a young girl waiting outside. She wants to talk to you."

Sherlock took his eyes of the computer. "Is her name Nadia?"

"Yes."

"Let her in."

The young girl with long dark hair and pale skin that he saw on the crime scene entered in the room. She looked at the division with curiosity then to the detective.

"Mr Holmes." She began. "We already met. You texted me to come here. So, what do you want from me, if I may ask."

"Yes. Have a sit, Miss Evans. We need to talk."

So she did. "It's about the murder, I suppose. You wouldn't tell me to come for another motive."

"Indeed. So, Miss Evans. Does this mean something to you?" Sherlock said, showing her the note."

Nadia red it. "No."

"Really?" Sherlock inquired with his cold and accusing gaze that scared her. "Then, why does the note refer to you?"

"I have no idea." Nadia ensured.

"So, you say that the rose, your tattoo and your name on the note are only coincidence?"

"Mr Holmes, I assure you that I have nothing to do with all this. I don't why the man was killed; I don't who killed him… I don't even know who he was or how he and the murder knew me, according to what you say." Nadia replied. "But the scorpion…"

"What does it have?"

Nadia got pale, lost in her sad memories, the worst day of her life.

"When my mother…" She couldn't say the damn word yet, although it passed already four years since then. She looked at her mobile phone where a picture of her with her mother as wallpaper was. "…went to the hospital, her last words were 'The scorpion. The scorpion. I'm sorry, my dear. I'm sorry for everything.' I didn't understood what she meant but… It was something serious, something about her past that she never told me. I looked and I looked but I couldn't find any answer." She told, trembling and with weak voice.

"Interesting story… If we solve the murder, we can solve that enigma too." Sherlock said.

"Mr Holmes, do you think that has something to do with murder? Please, be honest." Nadia asked.

"I don't think, Miss Evans." Sherlock answered. "I'm sure of it."

Nadia felt worse. That was the answer that she feared.

"Sherlock!" John scolded.

"What? She told me to be honest."

"It's all right. Dr. John Watson, I presume?"

"Yes."

"You were hurt on your left shoulder. Does that still hurt?" Nadia asked.

"Only with weather changes." John told her. "How did you know that? Nobody else knows, except Sherlock." Then he remembered. "Oh, you deduced it."

Sherlock looked at her fixedly.

"Is there something wrong, Mr Holmes?"

That girl made him lose track of time. How was she doing that? What was happened?

"Nothing. I was just observing you."

"And what do you see?" Nadia defied.

"I see an orphan girl with no boyfriend who went through the mill and came here by bicycle because she needed my help." Sherlock said.

Nadia was speechless, hypnotised.

"Right, now this is the part on which you ask 'How do you know that?'. You hesitated when you said that your mother went to the hospital. You didn't recovered from it, as you can't say the word 'death'. I heard the noise of a bicycle at the door, so I deduced that you came by bicycle. Normally a girl of your age has a photograph of her boyfriend on her mobile phone but you don't. So, no boyfriend. Your haggard face tells that you passed through a lot of things, probably, as your mother's death was not enough, you must work hard to survive and you been put aside by your colleagues and another people because of your capacities of deduction. Am I wrong?"

"No." She stammered. "You're not."

An uncomfortable silence followed.

"You know, Mr. Holmes, I've been observing you too." Nadia said.

"You don't say it."

"Your clothes were ironed recently. You're a busy man and you don't seem the kind of man that irons his own clothes. You don't have a girlfriend or a wife and definitely you don't have a boyfriend either. Who does it, then? Not Dr Watson, of course. This was made by a woman. There's only your landlady left. She irons your clothes. You're trying to stop smoking but things are not doing well, right? Actually, you smoked a cigarette…" She smelled his collar. "… one hour ago."

Now it was Sherlock who was speechless.

"Am I wrong?"

"No." Sherlock could finally say. "You're not."

"I have seen this before…" John said ironically.

"Now, back to the murder." Sherlock cut off. "You say that the rose meant mystery, love at first sight and so on, if I'm remembered. This is, obviously, work of a gang who uses that flower as a code or a signature. And, I must tell you this, you mother knew something. Or someone from that gang."

"But… How could she?"

"Your mother told you about the blue rose. Both of you have a blue rose tattooed."

"Yes." Nadia nodded. "When I was 21, I joked about making a tattoo, and, surprisingly, she said that was an excellent idea. She even suggested the blue rose."

"Is that so? Have you noticed some changes on her behaviour? Was she upset?"

"Yes. She was always… sad. I never knew why. She never told me when I asked her. On her last times, she said that was because of… her damn disease." Nadia made an effort to not cry. "But I didn't believe her. On the deep, I knew that was something more."

"You mother knew about flowers, as I can see."

"Yes."

"Did she work with flowers?"

"Yes. On a florist in Vitoria Street."

"Are there blue roses?"

"No."

"Who is the owner?" Sherlock asked.

"Theresa Goodman, a friend of my mother's." Nadia answered.

"So, we have to go there. Come, John!" Sherlock said, putting his coat and blue scarf on. "Miss Evans, directly or indirectly, you are a piece of this puzzle. We just have to find the missing ones!"


	3. Lucy Evans

**Hi, FF buddies! The third chapter is on! **

Chapter Three

LUCY EVANS

On the taxi, Nadia could take her eyes of Sherlock. She felt uncomfortable, like he was reading her thoughts. However, he fascinated her. Who was he? Did he fell lonely when the others put him apart just because his incomparable capacities of reasoning that made him famous? Like they did to her? He knew everything about everybody, but nobody knew a thing about him.

"May I see your locket?" Sherlock asked, breaking the silence.

"Well… Sure." She said, handling him her golden heart-shaped locket. It had a photograph of her mother.

"Your mother raised you on her own, right?"

"How did you deduce that?" Nadia inquired.

"You have photographs of your mother with you, but not of your father. That means that they split." He explained.

"Well, I… don't know who my father is. I lived alone with my mother since I remember. There were no photographs of him on our house. I never saw him. And my mother never talked about him." Nadia said. "When my mother passed away, I looked for him. I went to the registry office, but in vain. On my birth certificate, his name is not there."

Sherlock looked at the window, lost on his thoughts. If she never knew her father… There was a big possibility of her father being involved.

"Sherlock, you're being inconvenient, don't you think?" John scolded.

"I'm a consulting detective, John. I must know every single detail, no matter how it hurts. It's part of my job." Sherlock clarified.

"Sherlock is not known by his tact." John whispered to her.

"John, if you want to tell me something, say it in my face, please." Sherlock replied.

They arrived to the florist. A 48 years old red haired woman was at the counter. That woman was the owner, Theresa Goodman. She hugged Nadia, happy to see her.

"Nadia! It's so wonderful to see you! How are you, darling?"

"Fine, thank you." Nadia said. "This is Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am." John saluted.

"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson? The detectives?"

"Well, he is the detective." John clarified. "I'm just…"

"…my friend, my colleague, my flatmate, my blogger and, to all intents and purposes, my PA" Sherlock added, emotionless. "We would like to make you some questions, Miss Goodman."

"About what?"

"About my mother." Nadia answered.

"What do you want to know about Lucy?"

"Everything that you know." Sherlock answered. "After all, she was your friend."

"Right." Theresa said.

"Theresa, tell me, did my mother tell you something about her past? Something dark that made her upset?"

"She… Nadia, all I know about her was that she came to London, all alone. I don't know from where. She was 23 years old that time and she was pregnant from you. Soon we became the best of friends. However, she didn't tell me everything. I always knew that she hid something from everybody. Something… bad. About your father."

"About my father? But what?"

"She never told who he was. I asked her once but she said that the less I knew about him, the better."

"Same answer that she gave me." Nadia groaned.

"What did you expect? You know how your mother was." Theresa shrugged.

"She is my mother. I had no secrets for her. Why did she have them for me?" Nadia wondered.

"Whatever it is, it must be something very serious. That's for sure." Theresa ensured. "She had her reasons to hide it from you. She was a good woman, always there to help. Maybe she wanted to protect you - or herself - from something."

"So, any idea?" John asked when they leaved the florist.

"Four ideas, actually" Sherlock retorted. "1) Miss Evans' mother or/and her father were involved in this story. 2) This was work of a gang, a professional one. They made everything to not leave a clue. They are smart and meticulous. Mafia, I bet. 3) They killed a chief constable, so, whatever they will do next, they will do something big. We're dealing with something powerful. 4) Miss Evans is in danger."

"But why? What's happening? And what has that to do with me?" Nadia wondered. "And my mother? Or my father, whoever he is?"

"That, Miss Evans, is what we will find out." Sherlock answered.

All happened in a blinking of an eye. A bullet almost hit Sherlock.

"RUN!"

Three men, dressed in black and hooded, chased them. They run faster as they could. Sherlock had the advantage of knowing London's streets. Luckily, Sherlock was fast and agile and John's psychosomatic pain in his leg was history. Nadia run with them, frightened, holding Sherlock's hand. They got to the Westminster Bridge. There was no way out.

"We have to jump."

"What?"

"Are you insane?" Nadia exclaimed.

"Do you want to be killed?"

Trembling and scared, she held his hand. She didn't know why but she trusted on such a peculiar man as Sherlock.

"No."

"Then, shut up and jump!" Sherlock exhorted.

So they did. The persecutors watched them jump into the Thames. Now they couldn't catch them. Sherlock hold Nadia in his arms, helping her to get to the surface. They swam and hid themselves under the bridge. The prosecutors gave up from the chase and leaved.

"This is the worst part of the investigation job." John said. "The culprits always want to kill us."

Sherlock laughed.

"Mr Holmes! We were almost killed!" Nadia complained.

"Come on! This was fun!"

"To be chased by murderers and almost killed? That is your concept of fun?"

"Admit it." Sherlock smirked. "You enjoyed it."

Nadia's heart was beating faster and faster. Strangely, she wasn't scared anymore. She felt so… safe in that man's arms. Sherlock could listen to her heartbeat and feel it against his chest. And why was his heart beating so fast too? Why didn't he want to let her go?

"Now, to the Scotland Yard. I just had a 5th idea."

"Which is?"

"Later. First, we have to go home and dress dry clothes."

"Sherlock, you are all wet! What happened?"

"Oh, the usual, Mrs Hudson. We were chased by killers." Sherlock said, as he was talking about something trivial.

"Quite frankly, Sherlock! Get some dry clothes or you will have a cold!" Mrs Hudson said. "You too, John! And the poor girl! I'll get some clothes for you, my dear."

"Thank you, Mrs Hudson." Nadia smiled.

"You welcome. Make yourself comfortable while I'll get the clothes and make you some tea."

Mrs Hudson came back with an old salmon dress that would be fashionable… on the '60s. But Nadia gladly accepted it, happy to have at least dry clothes as there were no women's clothes on that flat except Mrs. Hudson's, of course.

"Well… I'm going to the bathroom and change myself." Nadia said.

"Why in the bathroom?" Sherlock asked.

"Because I wouldn't ask you to leave your own living room and I'll not change myself in front of you, will I?" Nadia snapped.

"That's a good reason." Sherlock babbled, embarrassed. John couldn't believe it. Was it an optical illusion or Sherlock was blushing?

"We… we are… in our bedrooms. Call us if you need something." Sherlock stuttered.

"Yes. Call us." John added.

They went to their bedrooms and Nadia to the bathroom, still taking in that day's happenings.

In the Scotland Yard, Sherlock, John and Nadia met Lestrade. After they told their adventure, Sherlock finally informed them of his '5th idea'.

"I'll need the files of Sullivan's cases." Sherlock asked.

"For what?" Lestrade inquired.

"Isn't that obvious? This has something to do with some case of his. Someone who he accused or arrested and wanted revenge." Sherlock enlightened them. "Plus, I need to see the files of the Witness Protection Program."

"Now you're going too far!" Lestrade scolded. "You know perfectly that you shall not see those files. They're classified! And why do want them?"

"Lucy Evans!" Sherlock answered, putting it in a nutshell. "My client's mother! Mysterious murders, killers chasing us, her past hidden from everyone, even from her own daughter that, by the way, they knew… It fits!"

"My mother was on the Witness Protection Program?"

"Everything points that way." Sherlock said. "And that's why I must see those files."

"We can only do that with permission of the Ministry for the Public Affairs." Lestrade said. "That'll take some time. Until then, there is nothing I can do. My hands are tied."

"Damn bureaucracy!" Sherlock mouthed, when they leaved the Scotland Yard stunts. "I can never count on the Scotland Yard!"

"So, what will we do now?" John asked.

"Fortunately, I know someone who can pull some strings." Sherlock smirked and made a call. "Hello, brother dear! I need to talk to you. Shall we meet this evening?"


	4. Facing the danger

Chapter Four

FACING THE DANGER

"Can your brother help us to get the files?" Nadia questioned.

"Trust me, Miss Evans: If anyone can do that, that's Mycroft." Sherlock ensured.

"Is he someone important?" Nadia inquired, curious.

"Sort of." John told. "Mycroft occupies a minor position in the British Government. Technically, he _is_ the British Government."

"I hope we can find something." Nadia wished, straight-faced. "My mother was involved in something dangerous. But what? What is going on? Why didn't she tell me that she was on the Witness Protection Program? Why didn't she trust me?"

"She did that to protect you." Sherlock said. "From what or from whom, we will find out soon."

"And what is 'the scorpion'?" Nadia wondered. "Oh, of course! The right question is not what, but who!"

"Who?" John asked.

"Mr Holmes, what about if 'the scorpion' is the name of the gang?" Nadia asked.

"Or the boss' nickname." Sherlock said. "Both hypotheses are possible."

Finally, they arrived to 221B Baker Street. A top of the rage Mercedes was parked near the building. Nadia remember that she saw that car somewhere.

"Mr Holmes…" She said. "That car has been following us."

"I know." Sherlock said, dryly. "Don't worry, Miss Evans. I know who it is."

They entered on the flat. For their surprise, there was a man sat on the sofa. A well-dressed man that looked familiar to Nadia.

"You came earlier." Sherlock said, coldly. "How did you get in?"

"I have my means. You wanted to talk to me. Here I am." The man said. "Hello, John."

"Hi." John replied.

So her deduction was correct. Same eyes, same hair colour, same features, same cold expression. Mycroft Holmes smiled at her.

"And who is this beautiful young lady, may I ask?"

"A client." Sherlock retorted.

"A client? I thought that finally - and surprisingly - I would meet my sister-in-law." Mycroft joked.

"You don't have a sister-in-law, Mycroft!" Sherlock replied. Something on those words made Sherlock and Nadia inhibited.

"Pity…" Mycroft grinned. "How rude of me! I didn't introduce myself, Miss…

"…Evans. Nadia Evans."

"Mycroft Holmes, at your service." Mycroft said, kissing her hand, what made her blush. Sherlock, as usual, was emotionless, but something in his eyes made John conclude that if his gaze could kill, Mycroft would be dead and buried in that minute. "And allow me to say, Miss Evans, that you have beautiful eyes and a lovely smile."

Nadia giggled. "Thank you, Mr Holmes. You know, you are really Mr Sherlock Holmes' brother. You are exactly look-alike. You have the same eyes, same features, but Mr Holmes' hair is curly and you are more…"

"More…?"

"…corpulent."

Sherlock chuckled. But soon he came back to his usual poker face. Mycroft acted as he didn't notice.

"Now, let's talk about what really matters: What do you want, Sherlock? You wouldn't call me, 'brother dear', if you didn't want something from me." Mycroft said.

"About that: I need the files of Jack Sullivan's cases and the files of the Witness Protection Program." Sherlock said, without delay.

"I knew that would be something like that." Mycroft sighed. "For what?"

"For a case. Miss Evans' case." Sherlock answered, glancing at Nadia.

"I see…" Mycroft said. "Sherlock, do you know what you're doing?"

"Trust me; I know what I'm doing." Sherlock assured.

"Even when some professional criminals chase you and made you jump from the Westminster Bridge?" Inquired Mycroft with a sharp glance. As always, his big brother was aware from everything that concerned him.

"Always well-informed." John said.

"I repeat, Mycroft: I know what I am doing." Sherlock said.

"Mr Holmes, this is very important to me. I need to know what happened to my mother. It will help your brother to solve the case." Nadia said.

Mycroft sighed, impatient, with Sherlock's same gesture and expression when he was thinking. "I will see what I can do." Mycroft decided.

"Thank you." Nadia smiled.

"Well, I have to go. Duty calls. And, Sherlock…" Mycroft said before leaving. "…don't get into trouble."

"Yes, 'Mummy'…" Sherlock grinned. "Give my regards to the Queen." John and Nadia chuckled, amused.

"Now, about Miss Evans' case…" Sherlock proceeded. "What do we know until now? We know that they are a powerful gang. The blue rose is their signature. One of them, Jack Sullivan's murderer, is 6 feet tall. Actually, one of those who tried to kill us is him. The other is very tall, almost 6´5 feet, I would say, and he seems to be strong."

"And the other was a woman." Nadia noted.

John stared at her with eyes wide open.

"High heels, large hips… A woman." Nadia said.

Sherlock smirked. The girl was good!

"This information can be useful. We only have to find who they are." Sherlock mused.

"We have to do something, Sherlock! They can kill her!" John said.

"They'll not kill her." Sherlock assured.

"They tried to shoot us!" John remembered him.

"Us! Not her! When they shot us, they didn't take aim to her. That means that they're after her but they want her alive. Why? I'm working on it."

"Excuse me, I… I'm going home." Nadia announced, picking her bag, frightened.

"I recommend you to be careful, Miss Evans." Sherlock warned.

"Do you think they will come back?" Nadia inquired.

"I'm 100 % sure of it." Sherlock said. "Here!" He threw something over that she caught.

"Pepper spray?"

"Better safe than sorry." Sherlock reasoned. Nadia walked to the hall, still surprised. She turned back. "Mr Holmes… Thank you. For saving me. For helping me." She said with a warm smile.

"I didn't… It was… just… part of my job. I mean…" Sherlock stuttered, nervous. Why was he feeling like that? "Don't mention it." He finally said, composing himself. And Nadia left 221B Baker Street. Sherlock watched her through the window, riding her bicycle. John wandered what was wrong with his friend.

"Let's follow her, John." Sherlock said.

"What?"

"They will come back. They are after her. Do I need to tell you something more?" Sherlock tutted.

Nadia finally arrived to her district. She was almost coming home. The dead-end seemed more dark and sinister than ever. She shook her head to avoid those thoughts.

She felt someone grabbing her arm. She tried to scream, but he was putting his hand on her mouth to silence her.

"Hush!" The man said. It was one of them. The murderers. The very tall one. Nadia struggled with all her strenght, nevertheless, he was stronger than her. He pointed his gun to her head. "I only want you to tell me one single thing: Where is it?"

"Where is what?" She asked.

"Don't pretend you don't know it!" The man demanded.

"But I don't know! Really! I don't know what you are talking about!" He grabbed her arm harder, what made her scream of pain.

"I broke your mother's arm once!" He assured. "I can do the same with you! Now, for the last time: Where is it?"

She released herself and picked the pepper spray from her bag and used on him. He screamed, putting his hands on his face. Furious, he chased her. Luckily, Nadia was fast. Unfortunately, he was fast too. He caught her.

"Well, well, well… You are very stubborn, aren't you, Nadia? Like mother, like daughter." He pointed the gun again. "Now, will you be a good girl and give me what I want? We don't want you to suffer a slow, painful death, do we?"

"That's not a way of treating a lady." A velvety voice echoed. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were there. Have they followed her? Anyone would be angry with that, but Nadia couldn't help feeling relieved.

"Let her go!" Sherlock demanded, pointing his gun.

"Sherlock Holmes, the nosy private detective." The man quipped.

"No. Sherlock Holmes, the nosy consulting detective." Sherlock corrected. "Will you let her go or do I have to shoot you? Or maybe I should call the Scotland Yard and you would be in prison for a long time. What do you prefer?"

"I would listen to him, if I were you." John said, also pointing his gun.

"You killed a chief constable. Or better said, one of you killed him. Believe me, the Scotland Yard will very happy to see you." Sherlock quipped.

"Shut up, you busybody sleuth! Do you really think that you will stop us? No. Not at all. This is something big, Sherlock Holmes!

"Who the hell are you, after all?" John inquired.

"I would tell you…" The man said, pointing his gun to them. "But I prefer not to tell."

Nadia struggled. However he pushed her to the ground and changed his target: Sherlock and John.

Sherlock had good fighting skills and John made a good use of his training in the army. But defeat him wouldn't be a piece of cake. The man was really big and strong! He knocked them down easily. Then he ran away.

Nadia was lying on the ground, trembling. Sherlock and John helped her to stand up.

"Are you all right?" John asked.

"Now, I am." She said. "Ouch! My hand hurts! And my arm too!"

John examined her. She had a bruise in her arm and her right wrist was swelling. Sherlock stared at it, disgusted. That man was, by attacking a defenceless girl, a coward. But… He never worried with a girl before. Why was that happening with Nadia Evans?

"It's turning purple. Fortunately, it's not broken." John noted, looking at her wrist. "You would better go to the hospital."

"I don't need to go the hospital!" Nadia said. "Really. I'm OK."

"Miss Evans, just follow my friend John's advice and go to the hospital. We'll take you." Sherlock said.

"But…"

"No buts!" Sherlock snapped. "You'll to go the hospital!"

Nadia nodded. "Ok." She smiled at the tall man. "Thank you. Again. Both."

Sherlock blushed and smiled fondly. "You welcome."

So Sherlock and John took her to Saint Bartholomew's. John stared at Sherlock, surprised. Did his friend really care of Nadia Evans? John knew that Sherlock has, on the deep, a kind, human side. But he was too cold, too rational to show it. He was now acting strange. But why?

Was Sherlock…? No. That was not possible.

Was it?


	5. Everybody has a heart

**Chapter five! Enjoy!**

Chapter Five

EVERYBODY HAS A HEART

At Saint Bartholomew's, Nadia was on the ward where Jessica Miller, one of her colleagues, was putting a bandage and a splint on her wrist. Fortunately, it was just a luxation. She would take it off in a few weeks.

"What an adventure, huh?" Jessica said. "You're lucky. Your two friends were there to save you."

"Yes." Nadia smiled. "I'm really lucky."

"One of them was making eyes at you." Jessica smirked. "Is he your boyfriend?"

"No." Nadia replied. "You know perfectly that I have no boyfriend."

"All right." Jessica said. "You only get into trouble, girl. It could be worse, you know. Walking around with those freaks!"

"I don't get into trouble, Jessica!" Nadia snapped. "And they're not freaks!"

"There." Jessica said. "Finished. Well, my shift is over. And I have a date with Hugh." Jessica's last sentence was told in a mocking way. Like if Nadia envied her. A date with Hugh Smith. How lucky!

Someone knocked on the door. Jessica opened it to see a tall curly haired man.

"May I?"

"Of course." Jessica said. "Nadia is fine. It's just a luxation. It will be healed in a few weeks, doctor said."

"Good." Sherlock said. "Have a nice date."

Jessica froze. She went out, leaving Nadia and Sherlock alone.

"Everything all right, Miss Evans?" He inquired.

"Yes." Nadia answered. "I'm all right, Mr Holmes. It will heal fast. A couple of weeks pass quickly."

Sherlock smiled. "We should follow you more often. If they wanted to kill you, you wouldn't last more than 3 seconds."

"Very funny." Nadia smirked. "I'm not fragile, you know?"

"Not in my point of view." Sherlock stated.

"So you think that I can't handle myself?" Nadia snapped.

"I openly affirm it." Sherlock said, arrogantly.

Nadia bit her lip. "You have a bruise in your cheek." She noted, worried.

"It's nothing." Sherlock said.

"I'll take care of it." Nadia said, while she looked for something on the ward's closet.

"Miss Evans…"

But it was useless. Nadia sat him on a chair. "I'll take care of it!" She repeated. "That must hurt. I'll get some ice."

"Don't…"

"Shut up! And stand still!" Nadia ordered. She put the ice gently on his cheek. What was that? Sherlock never took orders from anyone. Especially from a woman.

"Thank you." They said at the same time.

Their hearts were beating so fast. There was a tension in the air, between them. They were close. Too close.

John, who was coming in, cleared his throat. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No." Sherlock said.

"I… I was just… He was hurt." Nadia explained.

"OK, OK. Sherlock, off we go! We had a long day. And Miss Evans too. We take you home, if you want it." John said.

"Thank you. But I can go home on my own." Nadia said.

"What about if they come back?" Sherlock stated. "Have you thought about it?"

"What about if she stays with us?" John suggested.

"Absolutely not!" Sherlock snapped. "We could ask Lestrade and his men for protection!"

"Sherlock, she's in danger, for Christ's sake!" John shouted.

A loud whistle ended the discussion. "Excuse me, do you mind of not talking about me as if I wasn't here?" Nadia snapped. "I'm going home. Good evening."

"Fine!" Sherlock decided, defeated. "She will sleep in the sofa."

"I don't want to…"

Sherlock glanced at her, coldly.

"OK. May I, at least, get my stuff first?" Nadia asked.

"Of course." Sherlock said. "And before you ask, you may bring your bunny. And don't forget your glasses."

"How do you… Never mind." John said.

"Right. Thank you." Nadia said.

"I must say, Miss Evans: It will be temporary." Sherlock declared.

"I know." Nadia said. "And, can you please not call me Miss Evans? If I will stay with you, even for a short time, we'll not need those formalities. Just call me Nadia."

"OK." Sherlock nodded. "Nadia."

Again that sweet, warm smile. Sherlock couldn't handle it!

"All right, let's get your stuff." John said.

Nadia was anxious and, at the same time, curious. It would be interesting to live with a detective. Especially a detective like Sherlock Holmes. After they get Nadia's stuff, they took a taxi to 221B Baker Street.

"I must warn you, Nadia." John whispered. "Sherlock is not the sociable kind."

"I already noticed that." Nadia moaned.

"For start, you must know some things: Sherlock plays violin. Don't interrupt him when he's playing. And especially, don't interrupt him when he's thinking." John advised.

"Right."

"And if you find body parts on the fridge or on the microwave, don't be scared. They're just Sherlock's experiments. He brings them from Saint Bart's."

"OK… That sounds promising." Nadia said with a forced smile. She stared at that strange man that was looking at the taxi's window.

"I play flute." Nadia said, trying to begin a friendly conversation.

"Is that so?" Sherlock said. "I see that John has already told you about my habits. Good. If you will stay with us, you must know those details."

"Sometimes, I speak during my sleep." Nadia told. "I eat chocolate when I'm depressed. Oh, and I let Bianchi walk free at home."

Bianchi was Nadia's white bunny. The animal stared at them, on Nadia's lap.

"Where's its cage?"

"It doesn't have a cage. I told you that I let it walk free." Nadia explained.

"Why?" John asked.

"He's locked at home most of time. It wouldn't be fair to put him on a cage." Nadia clarified. "Oh, I forgot! I don't eat rabbit meat. It remembers me of him, poor Bianchi."

Sherlock and John grinned at each other, amused with the young's girl's innocence.

They arrived at Baker Street. Mrs Hudson welcomed them with her usual good mood and kindness. John and Sherlock helped Nadia to unpack. Then, she helped Mrs Hudson to tidy the flat ("Look at this mess! That's the result of two men sharing the same flat! I'm not their housekeeper!") and make dinner. Sherlock, John and Mrs Hudson were indeed impressed with the girl's talents for housekeeping and cooking. Nadia had a fright when she opened the fridge, only to find a cut off hand. She sighed, disgusted, remembering John's warnings. John shook his head, as Sherlock explained to her his experiment. It was about fingerprints or something like that. Nadia didn't hear, for she rushed to the bathroom while Sherlock laughed mischievously, telling her to 'make herself at home'.

"It's very good, Nadia." John complimented, while they were eating fish and chips that Nadia cooked. "Isn't it, Sherlock?"

"Yes." Sherlock said apparently emotionless, but John noted a tiny smile on his lips. "Very good."

"Thank you." Nadia said.

"This flat really needed a feminine touch." Mrs Hudson said.

"I must confess that you're right, Mrs Hudson." John said.

"Your fish and chips are delicious. I can teach you some recipes, if you want." Mrs Hudson offered.

"John told me that you can cook very well." Nadia said.

Mrs Hudson giggled. "I do my best to keep these boys well-fed."

"Excuse me." Sherlock said, leaving the table and going to the living room. Nadia also leaved, after helping Mrs Hudson to wash the dishes. She found Sherlock, sat on the sofa. Nadia knew that he was thinking, so she just sat at his side, in silence.

"Like I said: He knew your mother." He said.

"Who? Oh, that man. Yes, he knew her. And he asked me about something."

"About what?"

"I don't know. He asked me 'Where is it?' but I don't know what it is."

"Something that your mother had and they want. Something valuable." Sherlock concluded. "They think that she left it with you."

"But what?" Nadia wondered. "I don't remember her giving me something that a gang would want."

"Perhaps she gave and you didn't notice. Probably she hid it."

"You must be right." Nadia nodded. "He said that he broke my mother's arm once." She said, angry. But then she smiled fondly to the detective. "And he could break mine, if you and John were not there."

"If you want to thank me, you already did it. More than once." Sherlock retorted.

"And it doesn't matter how many times I thank you. Nothing seems to be enough to thank you for what you've done for me..." Nadia stated.

"Really?" He mocked.

"Yes." Nadia replied, very serious. Sherlock stared at her, surprised. "Sherlock, may I ask you a question?"

"You asked it already." Sherlock grinned. "Just ask."

"When you said that you would shoot him…" Nadia started. "…you didn't mean it, did you?"

Sherlock stared at her, with his usual cold glance. "Of course I did mean it."

Nadia froze. "You… you would do it?

"Don't tell me you worry about a murderer." Sherlock snapped.

"By killing him, you acting like him!" Nadia declared. "You're a consulting detective, not a murderer!"

"I'm not a saint. Nobody is. Do you really think that there are good people in this mad, cruel world? I'm mean, 100% good? No. Of course not. Life is not a bowl of cherries. Mark my words."

"Don't teach me about life! I know more than enough about it! And I'm not only referring to lose my mother and survive on my own! How many times I saw old people abandoned in the hospital? Children and women beaten or abused? People dying with an overdose?"

"I saw worse things, trust me." Sherlock stated. "I had a case once, on which the mother killed her three children just for the money of insurance. I knew a philanthropist who was actually a thief that stole the poor of London. Shall I tell you more?"

"No." Nadia said, horrified. "You don't need it. I believe in you. But it's so sad."

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"To not trust anyone." Nadia answered. "Just because you're afraid."

"Afraid?!" Sherlock exclaimed. "And why should I be afraid?"

"Afraid of being hurt." Nadia said. "Afraid of breaking your heart."

"Breaking my heart… Now, that's funny." Sherlock mocked.

"Why? Because you don't have it? Well, that's not true. News flash: You do have a heart. Everybody has a heart." Nadia stared at him with a sharp glance. "The question is: What kind of heart?"

Nadia leaved the sitting room. Sherlock frowned. That girl! Trying to deduce him. No, trying to _understand_ him! As if someone could. Even less a girl like her. Sherlock concentrated on the murder, trying not to think about her.

Theresa finished washing dishes. She thought about Nadia. She feared that the girl could get into trouble with that murder on which she, unfortunately, involved, although she was innocent. She knew her since she was born. What happened to Lucy? What was so serious that she hid from everyone, even from Nadia and her, her best friend?

The bell rang. Who was at that time?

A tall man, dressed in black and hooded came in and pointed a gun at her head.

"Hello there!" He said. "So, you're her friend then? I'm referring to Nadia's mother, of course."

"Who… Who are you?"

"That doesn't matter. Did she tell you something?"

"About what?"

"Where is it?"

"Where is what?"

"You know what I'm talking about." He said, angrily. "Where is it?"

"I…don't know. I don't understand."

A silent shot and all she saw was darkness.


	6. Investigations

**Hello! Sorry for the delay. But here is chapter six!**

Chapter Six

INVESTIGATIONS

Sherlock looked at his watch. It was 23.45 pm. He was in searching on his computer about the blue roses. Nothing. No old cases consisting on murders that had that kind of signature. Someone was supressing a scandal. The man told them that was something big. Something powerful. Something that happened 25 years ago, when Lucy Evans was pregnant from Nadia. He was telling his theory to John when Nadia came from the kitchen, with a platter and three mugs of warm milk.

"May I?"

"Do you need something?" Sherlock asked.

"I always drink milk before sleeping." Nadia said. "Do you want some?"

_What?_ After all he said she was trying to be nice?

"Thank you." Sherlock said, without knowing what else to say.

"Thank you, Nadia." John said, at his usual nice way.

"Are you working on the case?" She questioned.

"Yes." He answered, impatiently.

"Did you find something?"

"Not yet." He admitted. And then the light came. "Pansies… Pansies are used to make the blue pigment for that kind of roses. They are normally found on garden centres and they can't survive the heat. So, that means…"

"Sherlock!" Mrs Hudson's voice interrupted. "Detective Inspector Lestrade is here! You have another one!"

"A murder. Same killer." Sherlock mused.

And there was Lestrade, asking for Sherlock's help again. The detective inspector gave him a strange look when he saw him on the living room with Nadia.

"What is she doing here?" Lestrade asked.

"Protection." Sherlock answered. "They are trying to get her."

"Why didn't you tell me that before? Wait a minute: Did you say 'they'?

"Yes, I said 'they'. Now, the blue rose' murder. Who was this time?" Sherlock demanded to know.

"Theresa Goodman. A florist. She was found dead on her house. Same murderer. A shot on the right side of her head a blue rose." Lestrade told. Nadia heard it, shocked.

"Theresa… Oh, no!"

"Well, she was your mother's friend. No wonder she was victim." Sherlock said, emotionless.

"She was innocent!" Nadia cried. She tried to remain level-headed. "Sherlock, they won't stop killing people until they get me and whatever they want. We have to do something."

"She's right, Sherlock." John said.

"Yes. But now let's go to Victoria Street. You're not coming." He said to Nadia.

"Why not?"

"Because you'll only disturb!" Sherlock retorted bitterly.

"I'll not disturb! I want to help! It's Theresa!" Nadia replied.

"Precisely!" And Sherlock grabbed her arm, taking her to his bedroom. "Hey, let me go!"

Despite his protests, he locked her. "Sherlock Holmes, let me out of here immediately!"

"That was unnecessary." John pointed out.

"Mrs Hudson, here's the key. She'll not leave! Nobody gets in and nobody gets out until we come back! Is that clear?" Mrs Hudson nodded, frightened. "Let's go."

On the crime scene Sherlock, John, Lestrade and company were inquiring the neighbours. No one heard a thing. They were surprised by the fact that Theresa Goodman was shot, as she was a good woman and had no enemies and neither had they known someone that could harm her.

"All because of that girl." Donovan commented. "May I know why didn't you tell us anything, freak?"

"Because there was no time." Sherlock said.

"Or maybe you're protecting a suspect." Anderson quipped.

"For god's sake!" Sherlock moaned. "She's not a suspect! That was already confirmed!"

"But why are they, whoever they are, after her?" Lestrade asked.

"They want something that her deceased mother had and they think that Nadia has." Sherlock answered. "We only have to find what. Now, let's go work."

On Baker Street, Mrs Hudson brought some blankets for Nadia. Sherlock's bedroom was strangely silent.

"Nadia, time to sleep. Here are some blankets for you, dear." The nice old lady said. "Listen, Sherlock is not so bad as you think. When you know him better, you'll find that he is a good man. He probably did this to protect you. At his own way." There was no answer. "Nadia?"

_She must be fallen asleep._ Mrs Hudson thought. But the door, to her surprise, was open.

And Nadia wasn't there.

Nadia walked through the crime scene, hooded, with protection shoes and surgical gloves that she got from Saint Bartholomew's, trying not to be noticed. She saw Theresa's body, lying on the floor.

_Stay calm. Don't cry. _She thought to herself. _You're here to find what happened._

The blue rose was there. Theresa was shot on the right side of her head, just like Jack Sullivan, the other victim. She took photographs of the crime scene with her mobile phone. A lamp was crashed on the floor. There were no signs of a fight, so the killer must knocked the lamp down while he was running from there after doing his dirty job.

Illuminating the place with her torch, she looked at the house. There might be something. Some clue.

She froze when she noticed a shadow on the floor, beside hers. She turned around and she saw Sherlock, smiling at her.

"Do as I wasn't here." Sherlock said. And Nadia proceeded. Sherlock prepared his tool kit and got ready for his job.

"How did you get out?" Sherlock inquired.

"I used my hair clip." Nadia said.

"Oh, that old trick. Obsolete but efficacious." Sherlock smirked. "You're very stubborn, you know?"

"Yes, I know." Nadia grinned. "Why did you lock me? I wanted to help."

"I don't want to underestimate your IQ, Nadia, but you wouldn't be a good help. You could be a great detective. Nevertheless, you're too emotional, too sentimental." Sherlock said.

"I'll take it as a compliment." Nadia giggled. "However, detective is not exactly my dream job."

"Of course not. You prefer to be a boring nurse." Sherlock quipped.

"Being a nurse is not as boring as you think." Nadia said. "But do you really think that I could be a great detective?"

"One of the best." Sherlock nodded. "You're deductive, have good instincts and you're very meticulous. Paying attention to the details is a great detective quality. And very important for the investigation job." He stared at her. "Look at you: Taking photographs of the crime scene with your mobile phone… You even brought a torch, protection shoes and surgical gloves." He looked proud. As least, that was what Nadia thought. "What do you have here?" He took her bag and examined its contents. "Binoculars!" He giggled. "And a notebook. Well, well, well…"

Nadia giggled too. She felt so good when she saw that glint on his deep blue eyes. "Now, where were we?"

"No signs of struggle." Sherlock noted. "But the lamp is broken."

"The killer knocked it down when he left in a hurry." Nadia said.

"Very good." Sherlock complimented. Then, he used the ultraviolet lamp that he borrowed from Anderson and fluorescent footmarks appeared on the floor.

"Boots! Same number! It was the same man who killed Jack Sullivan!" Nadia noted and she took a photograph. Sherlock used his brush to see if there were fingerprints.

"I see that you're having fun." John said, coming in the room.

"Yes." Sherlock said.

"Well, let's see…" John examined Theresa's body. "There are no injuries, except the gunshot wound. She has a bruise in her right arm, so the killer grabbed it with strenght."

"What did they want from Theresa? She didn't know anything." Nadia wondered.

"She was your mother's friend. Maybe they thought she knew something about it." John said.

Sherlock looked at the floor. There was a black button on the floor.

"Ah, evidence! Finally!" Sherlock said, putting in the evidence bag.

"So? What did you find?" Lestrade asked when then left Theresa's flat.

"Wait a minute! What is she doing on the crime scene?" Anderson noticed Nadia, that blushed, embarrassed.

"Well… I…" She stammered.

"She's with me." Sherlock stated. "Theresa was her mother's best friend. Whatever they want from Nadia, they thought that Theresa had. Or knew where it was."

"Right." Lestrade said. "We already talked with Sullivan's wife. She didn't know anything. Her husband barely talked with her about his job. I made some calls to Dublin, where is he from. His ex-colleagues didn't know anything either. So they said."

"So, as we already concluded, it is, in fact, something big and dangerous." Sherlock said. "How long was he in England?"

"He was transferred to London's Scotland Yard 20 years ago." Lestrade told.

"Now we have something to look at." Sherlock mused. "We found this button."

"We'll analyse that." Sally said, grimacing at Nadia.

"Yes, do that." Sherlock said, leaving Victoria Street with Nadia and John. Meanwhile, a message from Mycroft came.

_Sullivan's files already on your flat. Careful. M_

On 221B Baker Street, a couple of boxes, full of files, were on the floor. Sherlock, John and Nadia examined them thoroughly.

"Sullivan came from Ireland 20 years ago. We have to look for the files from the time he was in Dublin. Theresa said that your mother was not from London, right?"

"Yes." Nadia mused. "Maybe… What about if she was from there? She must know Jack Sullivan from Dublin. I deduce that it was he who put her on the Witness Protection Program."

"Exactly!" Sherlock said. "Now, let's see…"

They looked and looked. On the Witness Protection Program, there was nothing that connected Nadia's mother to the murders. It was already 4.00 am. Tired, Nadia fell asleep.

"Nothing!" Sherlock groaned. "However, there is something unusual here. Look, John: Between September 4th of 1987 and October 3rd of 1987 there are no cases. Don't tell me that Jack Sullivan didn't have a single case for a month!"

"Yeah. Odd. Sherlock, what about…" John froze. "…if someone stole them?"

"Brilliant, John!" Sherlock complimented.

"Shut up!" John hissed. He nodded at Nadia, who was sleeping. Sherlock looked at the girl, with her head on the Union Jack cushion. Sherlock never saw anyone so fragile and, at the same time, so strong. _And so beautiful_. He shook his head to avoid those thoughts.

"Here is what we're going to do: We'll go the Ministry for the Public Affairs and find out what went on. Then, we'll look for a garden centre where there are pansies. The game is definitely on."


	7. Feelings

**Hi there! Chapter seven is on. **

Chapter Seven

FEELINGS

John was sleeping in his bedroom. Sherlock was still in the living room, wide awake, sat on the sofa and lost on his thoughts. Yes, they were facing something dangerous. And it was up to him to find what it was. And that would be that early morning, if it depended on him.

Nadia was still sleeping. What did he exactly feel about that girl? He never cared about someone before. Well, except John. But that was different. John was his friend. His best friend. Or better said, his _only_ friend. However, there was something on that girl that _attracted_ him, like a magnet. Perhaps it was her amazing intellect. He never met anyone as intelligent as her. At the same time, Nadia was so innocent, endearing and kind, even to someone like him, a high functioning sociopath, as he described himself. No. It was more than that. Much more.

And why did he find her beautiful? She was just a girl. A girl that he barely knew. Besides, he was never fond of women. Dates and relationships in general were not quite his area. Then, why had he those thoughts about Nadia?

"No… She is dead… They killed her like they killed him… No! Not them! Leave them! No!" Nadia moaned. She was speaking during her sleep, like she told them. Sherlock approached the sleeping girl.

"It's just a nightmare. Just a nightmare." Sherlock whispered to her ear. Nadia relaxed, still asleep. He stroke her cheek instinctively with his thumb. Suddenly, she grabbed his hand, whispering his name. Sherlock heard it, shocked and, somehow, touched.

_What have you done to me, Nadia Evans? _Sherlock thought. And he let himself fall asleep by her side.

Nadia woke up, strangely on a good mood. She felt that, for her surprise, someone was lying by her side. And she was more surprised when she saw who it was. It was so strange to see Sherlock sleeping. He seemed so… Normal. He kept the same serious, cold expression, even when he was sleeping. Her surprise got bigger when she saw that they were holding hands. She rose, got herself ready and went to the kitchen to make breakfast.

Sherlock woke up with the sweet smell of coffee. In the kitchen, he saw coffee, milk, toasts, butter and jam on the table. Who has done that? Mrs Hudson? No. It was Nadia, dressed strangely in black. She was wearing a black skirt, a black shirt with long sleeves, black tights and high black boots. She smiled at him while she was putting tea on the table.

"Good morning." She said.

"Good… morning." Sherlock said, embarrassed.

"I made breakfast. What do want? Milk? Coffee?"

"Just coffee, thank you."

"Eat some toast too. John told me that you don't stop to eat or sleep when you're working but you can't think without a good night sleep or with empty stomach, you know? You have to take care of you." Nadia advised.

Sherlock smiled. "I appreciate your concern but I'm a grown up."

"But sometimes, you act like a child." Nadia said, putting coffee on the cup. "I'm not saying that as an offense."

"I know." Sherlock said. "I'll not take very long. John and I are going to the Ministry for the Public Affairs."

"May I know why?" Nadia asked.

"Some of Jack Sullivan's files are missing." Sherlock answered.

"Really?" Nadia asked.

"Somebody stole them. Or hid them. With the intention of hiding something from us that has to do about the case."

"That sounds logical." Nadia mused. "There was nothing about my mother on the Witness Protection Program as well."

"Of course not." Sherlock said. "And that is why we'll go there. To find what is going on."

"I would like to go with you but I'm going out too." Nadia told.

"Where are you going?"

"To Theresa's funeral." Nadia said. "It's my duty. Theresa was my mother's best friend and she was there for me when Mum died. I owe her so much." Nadia said.

"I understand." Sherlock said. "I'll go with you. With those assassins out, I can't leave you on your own."

"Are you worried about me?" Nadia inquired.

"No. Yes. Maybe. I mean…" Sherlock stuttered. Nadia giggled, leaving Sherlock even more uncomfortable.

"Good morning, people." John said, noticing their awkwardness. "Wow, Nadia! You improved!" He said, looking at the delicious breakfast on the table. His mobile phone rang announcing a message from Mary.

"It's Mary. She wants to lunch with me." He said.

"We have more important things to do, John." Sherlock stated.

"Sherlock, can you please give me at least a day off?" John asked. "I already cancelled the date once. Sorry, Sherlock, but I'll not do it again!"

"Let him go, Sherlock." Nadia said. "I don't want you to stop living your lives because of me."

"I will go to the funeral with you." Sherlock said.

"But you don't need if you don't want to. And I know you don't." Nadia said.

"I will go." Sherlock insisted. "All right, John can go to his date. We shall meet at the Ministry for the Public Affairs after that. What do you think?"

"That's all right for me." Nadia agreed. "What do you think, John?"

"For me too." John shrugged.

After taking breakfast, Nadia picked her bag, dressed up a black tartan coat, put a black beret and asked Mrs Hudson if she could please take care of Bianchi while they were out. The bunny looked at them with curiosity. Nadia said goodbye to her dear pet, stroking its back.

Sherlock was _bored_. But he didn't show it or said anything. He just watched Nadia, together with another Theresa Goodman's friends, saying goodbye to the unfortunate woman, trying to control her tears.

"Thank you for coming with me." Nadia said to him after the funeral was over. "And I'm sorry for wasting your time."

He said nothing.

"You've been helping me so much. You and John." Nadia continued.

"I'm not helping you. I'm just doing my job." Sherlock said. Why did it sound like a lie?

"Even so." Nadia said. "You're a good person, Sherlock."´

'A good person'… That was the nicest thing that someone told him.

"You say that because you don't know me." He replied.

"Wrong." Nadia retorted. "I say that because I'm can evaluate people's character."

"And how can you evaluate my character?" Sherlock inquired. "As I said, you don't know me."

"By looking you in the eyes." Nadia answered. "They tell me everything."

"And what are they telling you now?" Sherlock challenged.

"That you feel lonely." Nadia said. "That all your arrogance and coolness is just a mask."

"And you deduced that just by looking me in the eyes…" Sherlock mocked. "Well, your deduction is wrong."

"No, it's not." Nadia said. "And you know that."

Sherlock didn't bother to answer back. "It's lunch time. You must be hungry."

"A little." She said. "But I would like to visit someone first. Would you come with me?"

"As you wish." Sherlock said. Nadia took him to a grave.

"This is my mother." She said. "I come here to visit her whenever I can."

Sherlock looked at the portrait on the grave. He recognised the woman in Nadia's photographs. She was indeed Nadia's mother. They were very look-alike. Nadia had her beautiful hazel eyes, long dark hair and a smile that could melt an iceberg.

"How did she die?" Sherlock asked. He felt bad by making that question, something that he never felt before.

"Sarcoma." Nadia answered. Sherlock stared at her, without knowing what to say to comfort her. He didn't even know why he wanted to comfort her.

"Well, let's have lunch." Nadia said, pretending to be in high spirits.

They went to Hyde Park, where they sat on the Speaker's Corner while they ate a hamburger (Nadia's idea, of course). For the first time in a while, she felt happy, although she couldn't explain why. Sherlock barely talked. However, she felt good by his side and enjoyed his company.

"You never ate a hamburger before, did you?" Nadia asked.

"I'm not very fond of it. But this one is good." Sherlock said.

"Well, it's easy for people like us: We know if a restaurant is good only by looking at the doorknob." Nadia quipped. Sherlock couldn't resist and laughed. "What?" He asked, watching Nadia smiling fondly at him.

"I just like to see you laugh." Nadia said.

Sherlock smiled. "I think I never had such a compliment."

"It's true. I like it. Really." Nadia assured. "In general, I like to see people happy." But then, she saw Sherlock about to light a cigarette. She suddenly took it from him and threw it to the dustbin. "Hey!" He snapped.

"It's for your own good!" She declared.

Furious, he took a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and threw it to the dustbin like she did.

"Happy?" Sherlock asked rudely.

"Very happy." Nadia grinned.

Mary Morstan accompanied her boyfriend, John, to the Ministry for the Public Affairs. The lunch was great until Mary try to convince him to meet her parents. John loved Mary with all his heart. Nobody could deny it. But meeting her parents? Not that he was against it, but at that time of his life, he didn't think that was a good idea.

"For god's sake, John!" Mary said. "You're going to meet my parents, not to be hanged."

"Mary, what will your parents say when they know that your boyfriend is just a half-paid GP and an ex-soldier, who, by the way, is retired because of a wound on his shoulder, having therapy and living and solving crimes with Sherlock Holmes. Oh, did I mention that the only family I have is an alcoholic lesbian sister?"

"Honey, they won't mind." Mary said, kissing him. "Please! You're not afraid of Taliban and criminals but you're afraid of my dad?" She laughed. "He'll love you!"

"Are you sure?" John questioned.

"Yes, I'm sure." Mary assured. "Who wouldn't love you?"

John smiled. "Thank you, Mary. Hey, here they are."

Sherlock and Nadia waited at the door. Sherlock looked like he was going to throw up with such a fluffy scene.

"Mary, these are Sherlock and Nadia. Sherlock, Nadia, this is Mary."

"Hello." Sherlock saluted. "Nice to meet John's… 4th? 5th girlfriend?"

"Sherlock!" John scolded.

Mary laughed. "So, Mr Sherlock Holmes. John told me about you."

"Bad things, I suppose." Sherlock quipped.

"And it's all true." John joked. "He is working on Nadia's case at the moment."

"Nice to meet you, Nadia." Mary said. Nadia studied her. She was a pretty woman with blond hair and blue eyes, dressed on a classic way. She was nice, Nadia thought. Maybe they could be friends."Nice to meet you too, Miss Morstan."

"Oh, please. Call me Mary." Mary said.

"See you tomorrow?" John asked.

"Of course, my brave soldier." She said, kissing him. "Bye."

"Bye."

They watched Mary leaving in her light blue _Volkswagen_.

"A social worker, huh?" Sherlock noted.

"Sherlock, please, can you please stay out of my love life? Just once?" John begged. Sherlock laughed.

They entered. Much thanks to Mycroft's influence. They talked with Cedric Dalton, a 60 year-old man and the responsible of the files.

"I told you!" The man said. "I don't know happened. I didn't know that the files were missing."

"Are there any copies on your computers?" Sherlock inquired.

"There must be." Charles said.

So they checked the computers.

"We're looking for files between September 4th of 1987 and October 3rd of 1987." Sherlock said.

"Nothing!" Cedric said. "It's like they never existed!"

"Someone deleted them." Nadia mused.

"It's the only explanation." John acquiesced.

"Thus, we have a problem." Charles concluded. "I don't know where else to look for."

"Anywhere except her breasts." Sherlock scolded. The man stopped looking at Nadia, embarrassed, while the girl glanced at him, furious.

"So what are going to do now?" Nadia questioned when they left.

"Now, we're going to follow the blue rose's clue." Sherlock answered. "We have to find a garden centre."


	8. Jack Sullivan's Secret

**Hi there! Sorry for the delay but here's chapter 8. **

Chapter Eight

JACK SULLIVAN'S SECRET

Back to Baker Street, they started their search on their computers. The search happened to be fruitful.

"Here is one." Sherlock said, searching on his laptop. Nadia also searched in her iBook.

"And here is another." She announced. "I made a list." She said, showing him her notebook where she wrote the addresses of the garden centres.

"I also found some." John said.

"Very good." Sherlock said. John stared at him, with eyes wide open. Sherlock has never complimented someone, unless it was a sarcastic comment. There was definitely something wrong with his friend.

"Now we'll go to that garden centres and find one that delivers pansies for the blue rose's pigment." Sherlock decided. "Meanwhile, there's something I must do." He took his mobile phone and texted.

"Who are you texting?" John asked.

"There's not only homeless on my network, as you know." Sherlock said. "Now, let's go."

They hailed a taxi, and looked for the garden centre. They finally got one that delivered those pansies. Then, they went to the florist, ironically called _The Blue Rose_. Sherlock smirked. They were on the right track.

"Hello. May I help you?" A woman with long wavy brown hair appeared, together with an old man.

"Yes." Sherlock said, glancing at a corner where there was a lever. An open door leaded to a lab. And there were blue roses. "As you know, there was a murder near to the flat _when you lived_."

Nadia froze, noticing a blue rose tattooed on the woman's foot. She wore high heels, so she could see it.

"Sherlock…" She hissed.

"I know."

The woman took a gun, ready to fire. And she would do it if Sherlock didn't disarm her easily.

"Now, now… Be reasonable." Sherlock said. "John, call Lestrade."

"But, what's going on?" The old man asked.

On Scotland Yard, the woman and the man were taken for interrogation. The man was released as he didn't know anything. She used his florist for her purposes without let him know.

"First things first: Who are you?" Lestrade inquired.

"Camilla. Wanda. I have so many names." She joked. "Just pick one."

"Well, whoever you are, one of your friends murdered a chief constable and a lady." Lestrade said. "It would be easier for you if you told us something."

Camilla laughed. "Really? And what makes you think that I'll tell you something?"

"Proof." Sherlock said. "Only someone who lived on that flat, I mean you and the murderer, knew perfectly the place to have an advantage point and shoot Jack Sullivan. A simple country woman - Yes, I know you are a country woman by your tanned skin and accent. Sussex, I would say - that became a scientist and a man who know what's he's doing could go unnoticed. You had to force the door because you could ring the bell. The landlady would see you and tell us that. I saw the lever, as I saw the paint in yours hands. It's the pigment. And the blue rose tattooed in your foot. Now, tell us who and why."

"No." She said, in a challenging tone.

"Then you'll be charged as an accomplice." Sargent Donovan said.

"And of attempt of murder." Sherlock added. "You were with them in Victoria Street, weren't you?

"Do what you want." She said. "Hey, kid!"

She called Nadia.

"I have a message from your daddy." She said, grinning. "Stay out of this. For your own good."

"Who is he?" Nadia demanded to know. "Who is my father and why are you doing this?"

"Nadia…"

"People are being killed, Sherlock!" Nadia snapped.

"Nadia, let's go home." Sherlock said and he whispered to her. "From her, we'll know nothing. We have to find another way."

"John is right." John agreed. "Don't worry, Nadia. We'll find the bastard."

Nadia was livid. She didn't pull the trigger but she couldn't help feeling guilty. Innocent people were killed because of her at the hands of horrible criminals.

She was sure that Sherlock has a plan. She trusted him and felt safe with him. Some people could think strange or even crazy to trust a man as him, but she couldn't help it. Nadia hoped that the murderers would be stopped soon. She believed in justice and didn't want more deaths. She had her share already.

She was playing the bird's theme of Prokofiev's _Peter and the Wolf _with her flute until she heard the sound of a violin. Nadia tried to recognise the melody but it didn't belong to any composer that she knew. Sherlock must compose his own songs, Nadia thought, amazed. She let herself go by her curiosity and marched to Sherlock's bedroom. The door was opened.

Nadia remembered John's advice of not interrupt Sherlock while he was playing violin or thinking. She just stood there, listening to the melody. It was a lovely sound that made her feel in piece.

"I never had audience before." Sherlock said, giving Nadia a fright.

"Sorry. I… I'll leave." Nadia said, ashamed.

"No. That's not… necessary." He babbled.

"You play very well." Nadia complimented.

"Thank you." Sherlock replied. "You don't play out of tune either."

"You heard me?"

"Yes. For an amateur, I never heard anyone playing Prokofiev as you do." Sherlock assured.

Nadia smiled at the compliment. "He's one of my favourite composers. I love _Peter and the Wolf_. Especially the bird's theme."

"I prefer Mozart." Sherlock stated.

"Yell, you remember me of him." Nadia declared. "You're the Mozart of criminal investigation."

Sherlock laughed. "Why? Because I'm brilliant?"

"And modest." Nadia quipped.

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you." Sherlock pointed out.

"I can't be good at everything." Nadia retorted.

"You're good at being annoying." He said. "I still remember the cigarettes that you threw away."

"I was just taking care of your health." Nadia stated. "Nurse instinct. And you know that I'm right."

Sherlock grumped.

"And, for god's sake, the cigarettes are not the worst!" Nadia's expression became serious. "Do you know what I threw to the fireplace? I didn't taste it but I'm sure that it wasn't flour!"

Sherlock opened the mouth to protest but the words didn't come. He approached Nadia. His face was very close to hers.

"Why are you so annoying?" He hissed.

"Why are you so arrogant?" Nadia answered back.

Their hearts were beating faster and faster. Nadia trembled just by looking at his icy blue eyes.

"And why are you nervous?" He inquired, trying to hide that it was exactly what he was feeling.

"I'm not nervous."

"Yes, you are." Sherlock said. "Your nervous tic tells me that. You curl your hair with your fingertips every time you're under pressure. Actually, you're doing it right now."

"Who's being annoying now?" Nadia grinned.

"I heard worse." He replied. Nadia trembled even more.

For one moment, Sherlock forgot the argument. Nadia was all he could think. His heart was beating so fast. What was that? What was happening to him? Suddenly his lips were moving toward hers, for surprise of both.

"The tea is ready." Mrs Hudson said, coming at the door, interrupting the moment. Sherlock didn't know if he should be frustrated or relieved.

Mrs Hudson brought them the tea and her famous biscuits. Well, not exactly famous, but Sherlock and John - and now Nadia too - considered them the best biscuits in London.

"I just don't understand one thing: How could someone steal those files? It was supposed to be safe. "

"It was someone from there." Sherlock concluded. "Let's think: If you wanted to hide something so valuable as those files, where would you hide it?"

"In my house. On a safe, maybe." John suggested.

"But, most important, who did it?" Nadia wondered.

"Someone who has something to do with the murders or knew about them. Probably one of our friends of the gang. They needed them to find something or hide it." Sherlock mused. "Or maybe… Oh, I got it! I got it!"

"So?"

"Let's go to Sullivan's house."

The late Jack Sullivan lived next to the Regent's Park. Sherlock, John and Nadia went to his cosy flat. There, Sullivan's widow welcomed them.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs Sullivan." Nadia said, fondly and politely. "This must be hard to you.

"We're here to make you some questions that can help us to find your husband's murder. Do you know if something was upsetting him in his last days?"

"No." The woman said. "He didn't tell me anything."

"You're lying." Sherlock said immediately. "You work as a secretary on the Ministry. Only someone who has access to the files would delete them from the computers and steal them. That could be you, Mrs Sullivan."

"I… I…" Mrs Sullivan started crying.

"Sherlock!" Nadia scolded. "She just lost her husband!

"Mrs Sullivan…" John started, used to his friend's lack of tact. "Why have you done that?"

"Because Jack asked me to do it." Mrs Sullivan told. "He said that was about someone's safety. A childhood friend."

"Who? What's his friend's name?" Sherlock asked.

"Catherine." Mrs Sullivan said. "I don't know her surname. He didn't tell me."

"Catherine…" John mused. "That must be Lucy Evans' real name."

"Yes." Sherlock said, staring at a painting of a beautiful garden. "Monet. Interesting." Sherlock took the painting of the wall. A safe was there.

"Now, which is the combination?" Sherlock mused.

"I don't know. The safe was at my husband's care." A baby crying was heard from a bedroom.

"It's our daughter, Daisy." Mrs Sullivan said. "Excuse me."

"When is your daughter's birthday?" Sherlock asked.

"September 19th of 2010." Mrs Sullivan answered. "She's two years and a half.

Sherlock used that code. 09192010. The safe opened.

And the files were there.

"Bingo." Sherlock smirked.


	9. 221B

**Hello! Chapter Nine is on!**

Chapter Nine

221B

"Amazing!" Nadia said.

Sherlock smiled. "It was easy. If you look at the whole house, you see photographs of Jack Sullivan with little Daisy. He was happy and loved her more than everything as I can see. The safe code only could be his daughter's birthday, the more important and happy day of his life."

"That was Jack. He was a lovely man." Mrs Sullivan said.

"Your daughter is so cute." Nadia said, watching little Daisy, giggling on her mother's lap.

"Thank you. She seems to like you." Daisy tried to reach Nadia's hand.

"Well, I love children. I work with them in the hospital." Nadia started playing with the adorable baby girl. She would be a good mother, Sherlock thought. John wanted to laugh when he saw his friend touched by that scene.

"Catherine Russell." Sherlock said, reading the files when they were back to Baker Street. Nadia was excited. Finally she will know what happened to her mother and solve that case. "She was born in March 21th of 1965, in Dublin and studied in Oxford. After the degree, she worked as a forensic scientist for Interpol."

"My mother was a forensic scientist?" Nadia inquired, amazed. "And she worked for Interpol?"

"Yes. She went to the Witness Protection Program for finding a crime organisation. They are the worse: Drug dealing, women, everything that makes easy money. They call themselves The Elite. She was dating his boss, The Scorpion, whose identity is unknown."

"Whoa, wait a minute: If she was dating The Scorpion, that means that Nadia…"

"…is his daughter." Sherlock concluded.

Nadia froze visibly shocked. "Oh, god! That… That makes sense. So that's why… Oh, I can't believe it!"

"There's something that puzzles me: Why did Jack Sullivan hide the file on his house? Those guys could find them." John wondered.

"Because they would never look there. It would be too obvious. He was smart." Sherlock explained. "If they found those files, they would know about Catherine Russell's whereabouts and if that happened, it wouldn't be the sarcoma that killed her, but a bullet in her head."

"Sherlock…" John warned. Nadia went to the kitchen, pale as a ghost. Sherlock followed her. Nadia started to guzzle a chocolate bar. She was depressed.

"I would be depressed too if I found that my father was a gangster." He said.

"I'll be fine." Nadia assured, wishing to believe in it. "My mother used to say 'Everything will be all right. If not, it's because it's not over yet'. I think she was right."

"You were very close, weren't you?"

"Yes, we were." Nadia said. "And I miss her. I miss her so much." Tears felt in her face. "Why is this happening to me? My father is The Scorpion… First, I see a dead man; then, there are gangsters after me and now this… I'm… scared, confused, sad… This is a nightmare! Oh, I feel like I was a mistake. I _am_ a mistake."

Sherlock hugged her. Something that he never has done before. Nadia hugged him back.

"You're not a mistake. You're a consequence of your mother's mistake. It's different." Sherlock said. Nadia smiled sadly. "But, you know, you're a blessing in disguise."

The detective kissed fondly her forehead. That made her blush. He looked at her big, shiny, brown eyes, while he stoked her cheek with the thumb, giving her chills and feeling her heart racing only by his touch.

She kissed him on the cheek, before she left the kitchen. Sherlock deflated. He was having the same strange feeling inside him that he had before they went to Jack Sullivan's house. He almost kissed Nadia. He _wanted _to kiss Nadia. He never felt that before. But he knew that he shouldn't do it.

"How is she?" John asked, entering in the kitchen and noticing Sherlock's unease.

"She'll deal with it. She's a strong girl." Sherlock said, with a certain sweet girl in his mind.

"All right, Sherlock, what's going on?" John inquired very serious.

"Why are you asking that?"

"You're acting strange." John accused.

"No, I'm not." Sherlock assured.

"Come on, Sherlock!" John smirked. "It's Nadia, isn't it? You care about her."

"I don't 'care' about her! She's just a client!"

"Not any client." John pointed out. "She's somehow… special."

"Yes, she is." Sherlock said, dreamy.

"See? You even compliment her! You like her!"

"No, I don't!"

"Sherlock, you never acted like that before!" John said. "Not even with Irene Adler."

"Nadia is very different from The Woman, John." Sherlock commented. "There's no possible comparison."

Although Irene was not indifferent to him, nothing happened between then. And never would happen. Irene loved to dominate. For her, he was a nothing but a toy. Nadia was sweet, altruist and endearing.

"You're right." John said. "Nadia is very different. Actually, she's very different from the other girls."

"Indeed." Sherlock sighed.

"Oh, God! You really like her!" John muttered.

Sherlock's mobile phone rang. Sherlock smiled at the message received.

"Who is it?" John questioned.

"My network." Sherlock answered. "Remember the guy that attacked Nadia on the other day? I texted them to find someone with our friend's description. It seems that they found him. We're going to meet them."

They called Nadia and hailed a taxi to Camden Town. When they arrived, Sherlock took them to an old pavilion. Its facade was painted and it was full of graffiti on the inside. There, four kids sang Bob Marley's _Three Little Birds_, while a one of them, a girl played a drum. There was a boy among them that John recognised.

"Hello, people!" Sherlock saluted.

"Hey, captain!" They saluted him.

"Hi." John said, coldly. "Raz. The last time I saw you, I was taken by the police because of a graffito that _you_ made!"

"Hey, no resentments, OK?" Raz mocked.

"OK." John said.

"Let me introduce you: Raz, Rebecca…" Sherlock introduced. Rebecca was a 14 year-old young girl with brown hair with a pink streak and a piercing on her nose. "Virus." Virus was boy with blond curly hair. "And Bobby." Bobby was the youngest. He was na 8 year-old kid with brown hair. "They call themselves 221B."

"Is she your girlfriend, captain?"

"No." Sherlock said, dryly. Nadia blushed.

"Hi. I'm Nadia."

"So, what do you got for me?" Sherlock inquired, impatiently.

"We saw a very big guy near the University of London." Bobby told.

"And it's not the first time he's seen there." Rebecca said. "You know Rob?"

"The old homeless with a white beard that lives under the Waterloo Bridge?" Sherlock questioned.

"That's right. Well, we talked with some homeless from your network. He saw him there and told. We went there and confirmed it." Virus added.

"Good. Now, we know where to find him." Sherlock said. "Let's go."

"You're pretty. You look like my Mummy." Little Bobby said.

"I couldn't be your mother, little one. I'm too young to be it." Nadia said fondly.

"But when you marry our captain, you'll be. Won't you? Sherlock would be my Daddy and you would be my Mummy."

Nadia ruffled his hair. "We have to you. Nice to meet you, guys."

"Here." Sherlock handed Raz 20 pounds.

"20 pounds? Oh, no, Buddy! 80 pounds. We're four. It's 20 for each." Raz said.

"You're getting better on Mathematics." Sherlock smirked. He took more 60 pounds from his pocket. "Here."

"Thanks."

They left the pavilion. Nadia thought on little Bobby. The child was an orphan. And he suffered very much. It was easy to deduce that.

"Those kids must have been through a lot of things." Nadia pointed out.

"Yes. Raz had troubles with the police - He didn't change very much, actually. - and Virus was a hacker. Bobby's mother died and his father was alcoholic and beat him. Rebecca… Well, her stepfather… did her some disgusting things that I'll not tell you. They are kids from a Social Centre here in Camden Town. I just gave them useful things to do."

"You pay kids to spy." John scolded.

"I'm brilliant, not omnipresent." Sherlock justified.

"Why do they call you captain?" John questioned.

Sherlock laughed. "Just a funny nickname they gave me. It's a long story. Now, let's go. We have someone to chase."

Sherlock, John and Nadia went to the University of London. Disguised as cleaners, Sherlock and John entered in the University's Sports Hall, while Nadia waited outside with Lestrade and the other policemen.

"There he is." Sherlock pointed at the big, tall man. "I will go after him. At my signal, call Lestrade."

"Right."

The man was training judo. As usual, Sherlock's deduction was correct. He was a sporty man, of course, due to his strength.

"So, we meet again." Sherlock said.

The man stopped training and saw the tall curly haired man dressed up as a cleaner.

"Indeed, Mr Sherlock Holmes." The man said and attacked him. Sherlock used all his strength to knock him down but the man was very strong and corpulent. He knocked Sherlock down, hitting his head on the backboard.

"Sherlock!" John screamed. He called Lestrade immediately and intervened. Lestrade told his men to go. He told Nadia to stay there but the girl disappeared.

Nadia ran to the Sports Hall. The man would hurt Sherlock. She wouldn't permit it. She couldn't let people get hurt because of her.

"Stop!" Nadia said when she got there and saw Sherlock and John fighting with the man. "Let him! It's me that you want!"

"So…" The man said, letting Sherlock. "…You decided to be reasonable and give us what we want?"

"I don't know what you want." Nadia assured.

"You little liar!" The man barked grabbing Nadia's arm. John pointed his gun.

"Don't you dare!"

Sherlock stood up and knocked the man down with his impressive fighting skills. He could be strong but Sherlock was fast and agile.

"Are you all right?" John asked.

"Yes." Sherlock said. The Scotland Yard came in and took the man. "You. What are you doing here? I told you to stay outside with Lestrade!"

"I was scared for you! He could hurt you!" Nadia said.

"And he could hurt you!" Sherlock snapped back. "I was right! You only disturb!" Sherlock left with the other policemen. John sighed, following him. Lestrade stared at Nadia, while the girl tried not to cry.

**So, what do you think? Lots of surprises and mysteries will come next. And what do you think of Raz on this chapter? I watched The Blind Banker episode and I couldn't resist! And the other kids… Well, when I created 221B, I was inspired by the Baker Street Irregulars, from the books. I hope you liked.**


	10. Ghosts From The past

**Chapter Ten. Enjoy.**

Chapter Ten

GHOSTS FROM THE PAST

"Now, start talking." Lestrade demanded. "Who is Jack Sullivan's murderer?"

"We know that you are part of The Elite and you're at The Scorpions' orders." Sherlock said.

The man just stared at them, not saying a thing. His eyes were cold as ice.

"Who is he? And which one of you murdered Jack Sullivan?" Lestrade inquired. "Listen: We already got one of your accomplices. If she doesn't talk, then you'll talk. By free will or by force. Your choice, buddy."

The man was still silent.

"It doesn't matter. You're under arrest and I'll find the murderer. Sooner or later." Sherlock assured. He prepared to leave when the man started to speak.

"You think you're smart, don't you? The Elite is smarter. It's about power, Sherlock Holmes. Power. And you can't do anything about that. Our friend that killed that bloody policeman, Camilla, and I are not the only ones in The Elite. We're only the surface."

"Oh, I know that." Sherlock said. "As I know that The Elite will be dismantled. I'll insure it."

Sherlock, John and Nadia took a taxi back to 221B. Nadia was silent, looking at the window, with a very sad expression, still taking in Sherlock's words. He was so cold and warm at the same time. Why did she care about a man who hurt her? Oh, how she wanted to stroke his curly hair while he sleeping on the night before! Nobody has attracted her so much as him. He was kind. She was 100% sure of it. Why did he distance himself from people? Even from his friends? Nadia didn't have friends. Real friends. She felt lonely and she hated that. It was sad.

The consulting detective looked at her. Nadia was hurt, but she tried to hide it. He wanted to hold her hand. To apologise. To tell her that everything would be all right and he would be there for her. However, he controlled himself.

"Tell her something." John hissed.

"And what I would tell her?" Sherlock hissed back.

"Apologise her." John urged.

"Apologise?" Sherlock mocked.

"Yes." John said, very serious. "Apologise. You hurt her."

Sherlock said nothing. He just kept looking at the girl that in a short time invaded his mind.

It was a beautiful night. The stars shined as never. Nadia was lying on the sofa, reading a book, with Bianchi by her side. . She wanted to forget everything. Various questions accumulated on her mind. Sherlock took a deep breath. That wouldn't be easy. Not for him. He studied her. She was wearing her glasses and reading Jules Verne's _Michael Strogoff: The Courier of the Czar_. A classic. A girl of her age would read feminine magazines, not that kind of works.

"Huh… Nadia…?"

"Yes?"

"I… huh…"

Nadia smiled. "You don't need to say it."

"Yes, I need!" He said, almost desperate. "I… I'm sorry."

"That's all right." She said. Nadia turned to her book. "It was the note, wasn't it?"

Sherlock frowned. "The note?"

"Yes, the note that was sent to jack Sullivan. You deduced that I need glassed because I had to get it close to my eyes so I could read it."

Sherlock grinned. She was really a clever girl. "Yes. That's correct." He looked at her book. "_Michael Strogoff: The Courier of the Czar. _Not every people read Jules Verne."

Nadia giggled. "I love Jules Verne. He's one of my favourite classic authors. He had a great imagination." She said. "Michael Strogoff is one of my favourite literature heroes.

"The girl from the book has your name." Sherlock commented.

"Yes." Nadia said, indifferent to that. "I found so sweet when Michael gets blind and she guides him."

"And you're as sweet as her." Sherlock said, instinctively. _Why did I say that? _He thought. Nadia blushed. "You're… You're overacting."

"No." Sherlock said, getting close to her. "I'm not."

Nadia's heart was beating a thousand times per second. Sherlock stroked her cheek. Their faces were close to each other. His lips were almost touching hers.

Nadia's mobile phone rang. _Start me up_ by The Rolling Stones ringtone went off.

"Hello? Oh, god! No, I just… I'm coming right now." Nadia said to the person on the phone. "It's the matron. I have to go to work. It's 6.30 pm and I'm late"

"John and I will take you." Sherlock said.

"OK." Nadia said, picking her bag.

As promised, Sherlock and John took Nadia to Saint Bart's, until the two men left her. At the hospital, the matron rebuked Nadia. The fat woman with short brown hair was furious with the young nurse.

"That was not professional from you, Nadia!" She scolded. "You never got late to work before. You're clumsy but do you know why I put up with you? Because you're a good and very efficient nurse."

"I'm sorry. My life is… upside down. It won't happen again." Nadia justified.

"I hope so. Now, go work."

She didn't need do say it twice. First, she took care of a boy that was been operated to the appendix. Then it was an old lady who had a bronchopneumonia. And so many other cases. Nadia took care of them with her usual kindness and sweetness. She kept focused on her job, trying not to listen to the other nurses' comments, especially Jessica's. And, what was worse, Hugh Smith's sweet talk.

He was unbearable that night. On that moment, Nadia went to the pharmacy to get some pills for the second time.

"So, how are things with your private detective?" He mocked.

"Consulting detective. And he's not mine." Nadia retorted.

"I thought he was. You've been spending too much time with him." Hugh quipped.

"He's just helping me." Nadia answered back.

"I know that kind of help." Hugh smirked, getting close to her. "So, that's why you want nothing with me."

"I want nothing with you and that is that!" Nadia snapped. He grabbed her. "Let me go."

"Oh, no, I won't do that." He hissed. "I'll show you some things that your dear private eye wouldn't do with you."

"I told you to let me go. I'll scream." Nadia assured.

"I would like to see you try." He got her against the wall. Nadia started screaming but he put his hand on her mouth to stop her. He would go far if two male nurses didn't come in and one of them, a curly haired one, punched him, making him fall. Nadia, trembling, opened her mouth to thank the man. Until they turned himself to her. She recognised Sherlock and John.

"Oh, god! Oh, god! Oh, god!" She babbled.

"We decided to stay here, watch you and take you home when you shift was over. Sherlock's idea." John told and turned to Hugh Smith. "You…" Do you know what they do to rapists in prison? Well, I don't know but I'm sure that is not good."

"And If you touch her again, I'll kill you. And I know many ways to kill without leaving a clue. Is that clear?" Sherlock added.

Hugh grumped, cleaning the blood on his nose and walked away, furious.

He hugged Nadia, who couldn't believe that happened to her. "There. There. It's over." He said, comforting her. "It's over, Nadia. He'll not hurt you again."

"Thank you." Nadia said to them.

"Are you all right?" John asked.

"Yes. I'm… I'm all right. I'll tell the matron that I'm not feeling well. I just want to go home."

"I… I had my motives to not trust him. But this?" Nadia said, when they got back to Baker Street.

"Why didn't you made an allegation?" Sherlock questioned.

"Because he never got so far." Nadia answered. "Oh, I'm so ashamed."

"You don't need to, Nadia." John said.

Nadia just grabbed her old doll. It was a doll with blond hair, red dress and a white apron that her mother gave to her when she was 5 years old. Nadia stared at it, looking for courage, for strength.

"May I see your doll?"

"Yes." Nadia agreed. Sherlock must found something on it.

"What's with her doll?" John wondered.

"Look at the doll's eyes. Don't they look familiar?" Sherlock asked, showing him the doll.

"Black buttons." John said. Then he realised. "The same button that we found on Theresa Goodman's house!"

"Spot on!" Sherlock grinned. "Nadia, who gave you the doll?"

"My mother. But she told me that was a gift from a friend." Nadia said.

"Not Jack Sullivan, I suppose." Sherlock mused. "Your mother said it was a friend… It was someone who was connected to The Elite but left it. The doll was handmade. The person in question made it him or herself and works or is the owner of a toy shop that uses this kind of cloth, which comes from Ireland."

"Dublin. That makes sense." John stated. "And the person must know something about the murderer."

"Or even know who he is." Nadia suggested.

The shop was in Covent Garden. It was full of dolls, cars, all kind of toys. All they were handmade. There was only one man on the shop, a grey haired man with glasses, whose face was marked by life's adversities. He looked familiar to Nadia.

"Hello."

The man stared at Nadia, pale, as he has seen a ghost.

"I remember you!" Nadia exclaimed, surprised. "You were at my mother's funeral. I wanted to talk to you but you disappeared!"

"Nadia…" He said, fondly. "Long time, no see. You look so much like your mother."

"Who are you exactly?" John inquired.

"My name is Miles Armstrong." The man introduced himself.

"And you were part of The Elite." Sherlock added.

The man deflated. "You… How do you know..? Oh, wait a minute. You're Sherlock Holmes, the detective. I saw you often on the papers."

"I'm here to make you some questions about Jack Sullivan's murder. We know that The Elite is behind this." Sherlock told. "Do you know something about that?"

The man sat. His past hunted him for years. There was no way to escape. Maybe telling everything would be a way to exorcise those ghosts.

"I just want you to know that I didn't kill Jack Sullivan. Not after all he has done for Catherine. I met him in Dublin and I respected him, as Catherine's friend. I sent him a note when I found that they were back and after Nadia." The man started.

"With a scorpion on it." Sherlock remembered.

"It was our signature. So he would know it was me, as Jack and I agreed. Listen: I was a fool. I was lost. There's only two ways to leave to leave The Elite: Being arrested or being killed. I wanted neither. But if I had to choose, I would choose the lesser evil: Being killed. So I made a deal with the police: I denounced them. Some of them, at least. The ones I knew. In change, they gave protection to Catherine. She found that her boyfriend was The Scorpion, our boss. She was scared." Miles was livid.

"And who is The Scorpion?" Sherlock demanded to know.

"I have no idea. Actually, none of The Elite's members knows. Nobody saw his face. Only some privileged. And they would never tell who he is. But I know one thing: He is someone important."

"How important?"

"Very important, they say." Miles replied. "I bet that he's someone from the Justice. Or even from the Irish government. But I'm only speculating."

"What about the murderer?" Sherlock asked, getting to the point.

"Ah, that was work of The Fox." Miles said. "We were so many. Most of us never met. But The Fox was… How can I say? The best of us. It was said that he was very efficacious. We had code names: I was The Wolf. Silas was The Tiger, Camilla was The Snake… You get the idea."

Sherlock nodded. "Thank you for your time. Now we're getting close."

"You loved my mother, didn't you?" Nadia deduced. "The way I talk about her…"

"With all my heart." Miles mused. "She was the nicest woman I ever met. She loved flowers, so I had the idea of the blue rose, inspired on her. However she saw me as just a friend. When she was on the Witness Protection Program, I couldn't contact her. When I went to London, I found her once, by chance. Then, I was told that she died. That's why I turned up to her funeral: To see her one last time. And to know you. You have her eyes." He smiled.

A red dot appeared on his chest.

"Look out!" Sherlock screamed.

Too late. The shot was fired and Miles fell on the floor, covered in blood.

"Oh, no!" Nadia cried. "Help! Call an ambulance!"

"There's… There's one more thing." Miles said with a weak voice. He picked very difficultly a small paper from his pocket and handed it to her. "This… Your mother told me that you would understand."

And he died. There was nothing that Nadia, John or Sherlock could do. She cried, while the ambulance came. She already saw dead people but this time she saw someone being killed.

"People are being killed because of me." She sobbed. "All because of me." Nadia walked away.

"Nadia!" Sherlock tried to reach her but she left. Sherlock decided to go after her.

"Where's she going?"

"I know exactly where she's going." Sherlock said, leaving.

**So, what did you think? On the next chapter, it will happen something that probably most of you are waiting for. Lots of love for you all. **


	11. Little Bee

**Chapter Eleven, people! Enjoy!**

Chapter Eleven

LITTLE BEE

Sherlock took a taxi to the cemetery, where Nadia's mother was buried and looked for Catherine Russell's grave. As usual, he was right. Nadia was there, crying.

"I knew I could find you here." He said, behind her.

"Oh, Sherlock…" She hugged him. Sherlock hugged her back. "I'm so sick of this!"

"Nothing of this is your fault." Sherlock said.

"I feel like it was." Nadia replied.

"You don't need to feel that way." Sherlock stated. "That doesn't make you feel better, does it?"

"No." Nadia admitted and smiled. "Nevertheless I appreciate your effort."

"I'm a sociopath. I can't do anything about it." Sherlock declared.

"You may be a sociopath. But you're a high functioning sociopath." Nadia grinned.

Sherlock laughed. This made Nadia laugh as well. Now she was feeling better. Sherlock had that effect on her, although she didn't know why. The sky was getting grey and dark clouds appeared, announcing imminent rain.

"Let's go home. It will rain." Sherlock said. Nadia nodded and took a taxi to 221B Baker Street with him. Both stared at each other, with so many things to say but they didn't know what. Sherlock texted John, telling that Nadia was with him and that they were back to the flat, so he would be worried. As predicted, it was raining copiously. They finally arrived at Baker Street. At the flat's door, Nadia was shaking with cold and Sherlock handed her his coat. It was too big for her but at least it kept her warm. Nadia was surprised by his gallant gesture. And even Sherlock himself.

"We don't you to get sick." He said gently.

"Thank you, Sherlock." Nadia said. "Not just for this. For everything. For existing."

How could he resist to such endearing words? "Better now?"

"Much better." She said.

"Good." He stated. "You're more beautiful when you're smiling than when you're crying."

Nadia had shivers. But this time it wasn't because of the rain that felt trough her flushed cheeks. She curled her long dark hair with his fingertips, as every time she was nervous. Sherlock stroked her face and then her mouth, the mouth that he wanted to kiss since the first time he met her. Their hearts were racing very fast. Even Sherlock had some shivers on his spine. Their faces got closer to each other. Sherlock instinctively closed his eyes until his lips touched hers. Caught by surprise, Nadia froze but then relaxed, closed her eyes too and kissed him back. A little awkwardly, as she never kissed or was kissed before. Sherlock even less. He had no idea of what to do so he let himself guide by his instinct. Sherlock hugged her, getting her closer to him and Nadia put her hands around his neck. She never felt so protected, so happy.

They pulled away, without knowing how to react. Nadia stared at Sherlock, realising that he was as confused as her. A taxi came, bringing John who mumbled that Sherlock left him behind once again.

"Here you are. Are you OK, Nadia?" She said nothing, still taking in the recent kiss. "What's wrong with you two?" John inquired, noticing Sherlock's uneasiness.

Sherlock went to his bedroom, still thinking on what happened. As a matter of fact, Nadia was all he could think at the moment. No matter how hard he tried, he could stop thinking on her, on the kiss… He would never forget the sensation.

"All right, buddy!" John entered in the room. "Now you'll tell me what went on with you two. You're acting weird since you came back home."

"Normally, people knock at the door." Sherlock retorted.

"I don't want to give you the chance of escape." John replied. "I'm waiting, Sherlock."

"John…" Sherlock started. "I made a boner."

"What boner?" John frowned. That was really odd. Sherlock would never ever admit that he made a boner or a mistake.

"I…" Sherlock stuttered. John would never believe it. He didn't believe it himself. "_I kissed Nadia_."

John stared at him, open-mouthed and with eyes wide open. "You did WHAT?"

"You heard it. I will not say it again." Sherlock snapped.

John's surprise vanished instantly. Now, he was bursting into laughter.

"That's not funny!" Sherlock retorted. "This is very serious!"

"I knew it!" John said, still laughing. "I knew it!"

"You knew what?" Sherlock inquired, raising his eyebrows.

"That you like her." John answered. "No, change that. You're in love with her!"

"I… I'm not…" Sherlock babbled. "Nonsense!"

"That's not nonsense and you know that, Sherlock!" John said, this time very serious. "You kissed a girl with whom you're in love with. That's not a boner."

"It's a boner when the girl in question is your client." Sherlock declared. "And I'm not in love with her. Our… I don't know if I can call it a relationship, is extremely…"

"Professional? Don't make me laugh." John said. "Have you already talked to her about it?"

"No." Sherlock said.

"What are you waiting for? You can't avoid her forever!" John stated.

"I know, John." Sherlock sighed.

Sherlock kissed her. Nadia could hardly believe it.

And she allowed it, which was more surprising. No, what was more surprising was that someone like him kissed her. The boys never thought that she was attractive. And the ones who thought it only wanted to take advantage of her.

Was Sherlock that kind of man?

No. He wasn't. She was sure of it.

"Nadia…" Oh, no! It was him! What to say?

"We…" Sherlock cleared his throat. "We need to talk."

"I… I know." Nadia stuttered.

"Nadia… We were… stuck in a moment… And…"

"It won't happen again." Nadia finished. "That's what you want to say, isn't it?"

"Yes." Sherlock replied, almost coldly.

"I know." Nadia said, trying to hide her sadness. "It was a mistake."

Exactly. Then why did he feel like it wasn't?

"Sherlock, why did you kiss me?" She asked.

Sherlock didn't answer.

"Was it to spend time?" Nadia inquired. "Were you bored and wanted to get some distraction?"

"No." Sherlock said.

"Then why?"

"I… I don't know." Sherlock said. "It doesn't matter."

In the young nurse's heart there was a deep sadness. Sherlock felt an almost physical pain by seeing her like that. He went back to his usual cold and professional tone. "We're getting close to know who the murderer is. But the closer we get the lesser answers we get." Sherlock groaned.

"Miles Armstrong gave me this before he die." Nadia picked the piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Sherlock. There were music notes written on it. Sherlock recognised them.

"Chopin's _Nocturnes_." Sherlock said. "Does that make sense to you?"

Nadia thought a little. "Yes!" She exclaimed, excited. She got a music box and showed to him.

"This music box was from my Mum. It plays Chopin's _Nocturnes_. It was true. A small ballerina doll danced on the music box, while the song was playing.

"Maybe… Give me the music box." Sherlock took it to his desk and unscrewed its bottom. Inside the music box there was…

"A USB stick!" Nadia exclaimed. "Unbelievable! I could never imagine!"

"A perfect hide place." Sherlock smirked. "John!"

John turned his laptop on and put the USB stick on it. There was a file but it was needed a password.

"Password protected. Do your magic, Sherlock."

"My pleasure." The detective smirked. Catherine Russell did everything to protect her daughter from The Elite. And they were close. He typed N-A-D-I-A.

_Wrong password_

"Let's try your birthday." Sherlock told Nadia. And he typed 3-5-1-9-8-8. It didn't work either. Catherine Russell was very clever.

"It must be something that you and your mother knew." Sherlock mused. He stared at the music box that was on the table. It had _To my little bee_ written on it.

"Little bee. It's your nickname, right?"

"Yes. Only my mother called me that and only we were alone." Nadia recalled.

Sherlock smiled. He typed L-I-T-T-L-E-B-E-E.

"Yes!"

The file was opened. Sherlock stared at it, amazed. It had names of members of The Elite and places where the drugs and the women were delivered.

"If The Scorpion was someone important, it would almost impossible to charge him. Catherine Russell had no proofs, so she investigated on her own."

"And as Jack Sullivan was her friend…" John mused.

"…He investigated too and helped her with information." Nadia concluded.

"Correct." Sherlock acquiesced. "Now, who is The Scorpion?" Sherlock became suddenly open-mouthed. "Well, well, well… You weren't such a good boy after all, were you, judge Fergus Kavanagh?"


	12. In Dublin

**Here is chapter 12, people!**

Chapter Twelve

IN DUBLIN

"Who's that guy, after all?" John inquired.

"A judge with a very nice record." Sherlock answered, reading the file. "Nobody would charge him. He has no criminal sheet. No wife and no record of another child."

"So…" Nadia stared at the laptop. "This man is my father."

He was, indeed. Nadia had some of his traces, although she has more resemblances from her mother than from that man that she never saw before.

"All that crime stuff and he was never accused." John mused. "This is a case of corruption. No doubt of it."

"He didn't commit the crimes. He has his people who make the dirty work." Sherlock told.

"There's no clue about The Fox." Nadia noted.

"Catherine Russell hasn't found it yet, as I can see." Sherlock said.

"How did she get all this information? Did she and Jack Sullivan still have connections in Ireland?" John wondered.

"That's plausible." Sherlock nodded.

"So, what's your plan?" John asked.

"To go to Dublin." Sherlock answered. "It's where it started. It's there that we'll find the answers."

"To go to Dublin?"

"Yes, John. To Dublin." Sherlock said, impatiently. "I'll call Mycroft. Tomorrow morning we'll go to Ireland."

It was 7.00 am. They arrived to the airport, on Mycroft Holmes' car and checked in. Poor Nadia! On the night before, she called the hospital at the last minute that she would take some days off. The matron wasn't happy at all and made a point of showing it. When they woke up in the morning, Nadia was very nervous. She was afraid that she could forget something, which went on Sherlock's nerves. But, luckily, she had everything she need in her light pink suitcase.

Mycroft, accompanying that peculiar group, studied the young girl. She was in love with his little brother. It was easy to notice that. And Sherlock corresponded to her feelings. However, his stubborn, rational and cold little brother would never admit it.

"Well, people. I'll leave you. Sherlock, call me when you get to the hotel." Mycroft demanded.

"Why should I do that?"

"Because I'm your older brother and I care about you." Mycroft said, very serious.

"You're my older brother, not my babysitter." Sherlock grumped.

"Sherlock, if you're not good, I'll tell Mummy." Mycroft joked.

"Very funny…" Sherlock made, sarcastically.

"And, Nadia, my dear, be careful." Mycroft said.

"I will."

"May I talk to you in private?" He asked her.

"Of course."

Mycroft took her to a corner, where they could speak in peace and quiet. Sherlock followed them with the eyes.

"Don't take personal everything that Sherlock says." Mycroft told. "What do feel for him?"

Nadia gasped. "I… I care about him." She blushed. "On the deep, he's kind."

"It's the first time that someone says that Sherlock is kind." Mycroft pointed out. "His heart is hard - if not impossible - to deduce. Sherlock never acted like that with another woman. I start to think that my dear little brother has a very special feeling for you. And vice-versa." Mycroft put hand on her shoulder, on a paternal gesture.

"I… I don't think so. He's the consulting detective and I'm his client. Nothing else." Nadia stated.

"Trust me, Nadia. You're not just a client." Mycroft declared. He looked at his pocket watch. "I must be going. Have a nice trip and be careful. Oh, and keep an eye on my brother for me."

Nadia giggled. "I will. Bye."

"Bye."

Sherlock, John and Nadia marched to the plain. Mycroft leaved with Anthea, his assistant, not without glancing one more time to the girl.

"Anthea, call my contact on Dublin." He said to his assistant.

"Yes, sir." Anthea said.

After Mycroft left, Nadia joined the boys; Sherlock glanced at her, suspicious.

"What did my brother want from you?" Sherlock inquired.

"He just wanted to say goodbye." Nadia lied.

"Oh, really?" Sherlock quipped. "I thought you were conspiring against me."

"You talk like your brother were some criminal mastermind." Nadia stated.

"He's close to that." Sherlock muttered.

John and Nadia chuckled. John was already used to Sherlock and Mycroft's feud.

The flight took just one hour but for Sherlock and Nadia it seemed to take an eternity. They were sat next to each other and it was very hard to say which one of them was more embarrassed. Both were trying not to look at each other. John observed them, delighted.

At last, they arrived to Dublin. It was smaller and greener than London but it had the same weather. They went to the hotel that Mycroft booked for them. For John's amusement and Sherlock's dismay, Mycroft booked only two rooms. And of them was a double room. John decided to stay in the single room. Sherlock and Nadia would take the double. The consulting detective wanted to protest but John's decision was taken. Nadia was as ashamed as Sherlock.

Nadia left Bianchi on the reception, according to the hotel's rules. She had taken seven changes of clothes plus we're two of each, just in case. The pyjamas were on the top. _How typical_. Sherlock thought but his lips formed a tiny smile.

"So, what are we going to do, now that we're here?" John asked when they left the hotel.

"We need to speak with Catherine Russell's contacts on Ireland. They were not on the files. We already know that the USB stick is what they were looking for. If those contacts were on the files and The Elite got it, they would find those contacts. Catherine Russell was not only clever. She was very careful." Sherlock explained.

"How will we find them?" Nadia questioned.

"By going to your mother's house." Sherlock answered.

Nadia gasped. "To my mother's house?"

"It's the only way." Sherlock nodded. "I took note of her address from the Witness Protection Program files. Let's go there."

The Russell's house was very big and beautiful. They were really a very wealthy family. It was painted of white and there were rose everywhere, planted with care, as Sherlock could deduce. But it was lifeless, sad. There was an atmosphere of melancholy in that house.

John whispered. "Wow. What a house!"

"Lord Russell, Catherine's father - therefore, Nadia's grandfather - is the CEO of Russell Corporation."

"I heard about it. It's an important company of toys." John mused.

"Ready?" Sherlock asked Nadia. No. She wasn't. She was very nervous and anxious at the same time. She would meet her mother's family. Her family. A family that she never met before.

"Let's do it." She nodded. "But it passed 25 years. How will they react?"

"We must take the risk." He said, holding her hand. "Your mother lived here. There must be something that we and The Elite missed."

Sherlock rang the bell. An old lady - the governess, Sherlock deduced - opened them the door. When she saw Nadia, she got suddenly pale as death.

"We came to see Lord Lawrence Russell, please." Sherlock said.

"And who shall announce?" The woman inquired.

"My name is Sherlock Holmes. These are Dr John Watson and Nadia Evans. We'd like to speak to him." Sherlock said.

"Right." The governess nodded. A bit more and she would burst into tears when she stared at Nadia once again. "I must warn you: Lord Russell hasn't been the same since his daughter… He has been drinking too much… I'm not the right person to tell you this. I'll call him. Please, make yourself comfortable."

They sat at the Italian sofa. John admired the house, visibly impressed. Nadia couldn't resist and walked into the room, exploring the division. Her mother lived there. On the wall painted in yellow, there was a painting of a girl with Nadia's ivory skin and brown eyes. Somebody would mistake the girl with Nadia, if she didn't knew that the girl was nothing more, nothing less than her mother, Catherine Russell, about 30 years younger. There was also a black shiny piano. It was many years old already but it looked brand new.

"What do you want from me?" A well-dressed old man came in. He was, as they could see, in a very bad mood. And he has been drinking. An unhappy man. The glass of whisky in his hand told Sherlock everything he needed to know about him.

"You're Lord Lawrence Russell, if I'm not mistaken." Sherlock started.

"No, you're not." Lord Russell said rudely. "I asked what you want… Catherine?" The man froze and shacked when he saw Nadia.

"I'm not Catherine." She said, fondly. "She was my mother. So, if you are her father…"

"I'm your grandfather." Lord Russell said, with a tear in his eye.

"I'm Nadia." Nadia introduced herself. "These are Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson. I'm sorry… I… I never met you before. I don't know what to say."

"When I knew that your mother…"

"You should stop that." Nadia took his glass from his hand, for Lord Russell's surprise. He sat and started to speak.

"When I knew that your mother was pregnant from a… bandit… I… I demanded to know who he was but she didn't tell me. I said it was too dangerous; that she had done with him… But I didn't want to see her again after that… And then… I found that she was dead. Jack Sullivan, a childhood friend of hers, called me and told me. Now it's…"

"It's not too late." Nadia said. "Mum hid so many things of me but I knew her enough to know that she would forgive you. I'm sure that she loved you and missed you." She put her hand on his shoulder. "Grandfather…" Lord Russell deflated when he heard her call him 'grandfather'. With the same endearment that Catherine called him 'dad'. "People were killed. There are some bad assassins out there. Whatever you know, you can trust us."

"So… you're Sherlock Holmes. I already heard about you."

"Yes. Do you know any contact that Catherine had with Interpol? We know that she worked there."

"Oh, yes. She was amazing. Very intelligent. She studied in one of the best schools of England and then she went to Oxford. She was a brilliant girl with a brilliant future. The Interpol hired her as one of their scientists. She didn't think twice. Catherine loved science…"

"Push forward. Her contacts." Sherlock demanded.

"Well, she had Jack Sullivan…"

"He was killed." Sherlock revealed.

"Really?"

"Yes.

"My god! He was a good guy! Catherine and he knew each other since childhood. What about Thomas O'Connor? He is a detective inspector from Interpol. He must know something."

"We will talk to him, then."

"Mr Holmes, if you find out what happened to my daughter, if you find out who is the responsible of the killings, will you tell me?" Lord Russell asked.

"I will, Lord Russell. Let's go."

"Nadia… Will you… stay here for a moment? Just until they come back? I… I want to know you. After all, you're my granddaughter. It's been years since the last time I heard about you."

Nadia smiled. "Do you mind, Sherlock?"

Sherlock smiled her back. When was the last time he smiled? "Of course. We'll get you when we come back."

"See you later." John said.

"See you later."

Before they left, Sherlock glanced at the girl once more. She was talking with her grandfather. Lord Russell smiled and talked to her, as he was getting back the time he wasted.

"Just look at that, Sherlock." John commented. "Nadia broke his ice. She even made him stop drinking."

"She has that effect on people…" Sherlock mused. Nadia looked at him, fondly. Yes, she definitely had that effect.


	13. Love Is A Mystery

**Hi, guys! Here is chapter 13.**

Chapter Thirteen

LOVE IS A MYSTERY

So, Sherlock and John went to the Interpol headquarters to inquire DI Thomas O'Connor, hoping to get more information. They found him. He was a red haired man with jeans, white shirt and a celestial blue jacket.

"Mr Sherlock Holmes. And Dr John Watson. Nice to meet you. DI Lestrade called me. You guys are a legend here, you know?"

"Yeah, right. What can you tell me about Catherine Russell?" Sherlock inquired emotionless.

"Right. Catherine…" Thomas O'Connor mused. "I will tell you everything I know, but not here. Shall we talk somewhere else?"

"Of course. Where?"

"There's a café in Grafton Street. We can talk there in peace and quiet."

So they went to the café _Shamrock_ that Thomas O'Connor indicated them. They could see Saint Stephen's Green from it. It was a nice afternoon, contrasting with the issue that brought them there.

"Here's the thing." Thomas started. "Catherine was very smart, very intelligent. Jack Sullivan knew her since they were children. I first met Catherine when she was already in Interpol. He told me once that she hadn't many friends when they were on school because of that. When she knew The Scorpion, dated him, and got pregnant, the only people she trusted were Jack Sullivan and I. At first, she didn't want to tell us who he was. She just said that he was someone… high profile. It would be dangerous if someone knew everything. Imagine our surprise when she told us… And I take it that we're speaking in confidence?" Sherlock and John nodded. The Detective Inspector lowered his voice. "She told us that the Scorpion is…"

"…Nothing more, nothing less than the judge Fergus Kavanagh." Sherlock finished.

"Wow! They told me you were good, but I had no idea!" Thomas O'Connor said. "Anyway, we she told us, we decided to investigate. However, after all these years, we still didn't get him. The guy knows how to hide his track."

"A well-known judge with a good reputation knows how to hide his track by using his influence." Sherlock said. "But it's a matter of time until we get him. He won't get away with it for much longer."

"Now this is what I call a game of power." John pointed out. "And poor Nadia was dragged on it."

Sherlock nodded, dreamy, with a certain young nurse in his mind. "Anyone else knows about this?"

"Are you kidding? Of course not! A judge? He has people in his pocket! Who could we trust? Anyone of us can be a Fergus Kavanagh's man."

"I see…" Sherlock said.

"And this is not all. One of our informers was recently killed." Thomas O'Connor told.

"Miles Armstrong." John concluded.

"The very same." Thomas acquiesced. "We didn't arrest him because he was useful for us. Thanks to him, we got some fish, so to speak."

"Small fry, I suppose." Sherlock said.

"Of course. But we need the small fry to get to the sharks, you know." Thomas O'Connor shrugged. "The problem is that this shark was - and it still is - very hard to catch."

"Not for much longer." Sherlock smirked. "I already have a plan. But I'll need your help. Are you with us?"

"Definitely."

"Ah, here you are, Thomas!" A man with bronze-coloured hair, wearing a forest green suit with a tie pin came.

"Mr Holmes, Dr Watson, this is prosecutor Cedric Brown." Thomas O'Connor introduced. "A friend of mine. I work with him often."

"Ah, Sherlock Holmes, the great detective." Cedric Brown saluted. "And his friend, Dr Watson. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, Mr Brown."

"You're working on a case, aren't you?" Cedric deduced, amused. "What is it? Blackmail? Robbery? Murder?

"Murder." Sherlock answered.

"But here? In Dublin?" The man inquired with his accusing eyes.

"Yes." Sherlock replied, rudely. "How, if you excuse us, we have important things to do. Come, John."

John sighed and followed him back to the Russell's house. Sherlock looked back one last time to the man. He was deducing him. John was sure of it.

"Oh, hello." The governess invited them to come in. "Lord Russell is on the library and Miss Nadia is in the living room."

As they entered in the room, Sherlock heard a familiar sharp, warm and sweet voice singing. It was Nadia, sat at the piano.

_Hey, Mr. Curiosity_

_Is it true what they've been saying about you_

_Are you killing me_

_You took care of the cat already_

_And for those who think it's heavy_

_Is it the truth?_

_Or is it only gossip?_

Sherlock didn't know that song but he started to like it. He didn't know that Nadia sang, not that he didn't notice that she had a wonderful voice. It was the most beautiful sound that he ever heard.

_Call it mystery or anything_

_Just as long as you'd call me_

_I sent the message on did you get it when I left it_

_See this catastrophic event_

_It wasn't meant to mean no harm_

_But to think there's nothing wrong is a problem_

"Oh, hi!" Nadia saluted. She returned to the song.

_I'm looking for love this time_

_Sounding hopeful but it's making me cry_

_Love is a mystery_

_Mr. curious..._

Nadia stopped, knowing that Sherlock was behind her, glancing at her with icy blue eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes, special like a deer's and deep like the sea, made her feel vulnerable.

"Why did you stop?"

"I… Did you like it? I love music. As you know, I play flute. I'm not a professional. My Mum used to take me to a pub near our house. There was a piano and we could play it. Even after she passed away I still go there when I have free time."

Sherlock looked for John, searching for courage. But his friend wasn't there. He did it on purpose. He left him alone with her, Sherlock realised.

"You… You play very well, no matter the instrument. Your voice included." He assured.

Nadia blushed. "I'm… I'm not…"

"I'm serious." Sherlock said. "You're good. Very good."

"Thank you. You're… good too."

He stroked her cheek. She was so soft to touch. "You're like a butterfly. Have you ever heard about the butterfly effect? The chaos theory? A simple flap of its wings can provoke a hurricane on the other side of the world. You know what I mean? A tiny little thing can have such a big effect. Just like you're doing with me."

"I don't mean…" Nadia started, as apologising.

"I know." Sherlock cut off.

"Sherlock…" Nadia started. "I like you."

Sherlock deflated. "What did you say?"

"I like you. And… Whatever I'm doing with you, I'm sorry. You must keep focused on the case. I will not disturb you."

"Nadia…" Sherlock interrupted. "Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side."

"And I am at the losing side?"

"No. You are a very strong, intelligent and brave girl." Sherlock assured. _Actually, you're so perfect. _He thought. "And that's why we shall not let ourselves go by sentiment, no matter which. Love is a dangerous disadvantage. Look what happened to your mother." Nadia got straight-faced. "Sorry, I didn't mean…"

"That's OK."

"What I mean is… Nadia, love can hurt. Physically and psychologically. It only brings pain. And it only distracts us."

"But Sherlock…" Nadia said. "Life is easier when we have someone at our side. Someone we can trust. Someone we can count on. Someone who likes you for who you are. You have John, for instance. You're so different but you get along. Your bond is so strong. I wish I had a friendship like that. All my life… I was alone. And it's awful. Don't you feel lonely? Don't ever say that you don't need anyone. Everybody needs someone."

"Nadia…"

"And as I like you, I want you to know that I'm here for you. I want to be, at least, your friend."

She stared at him with those beautiful brown eyes.

"May I be your friend?" She asked, holding his hand. Oh, her hand was so warm… "Sherlock, I want you to be happy. Why don't you open yourself to people? First, you kiss me, then, you ignore me. What am I for you?"

"What are you for me?" Sherlock wondered. "Nadia, for me you are… You are…"

And he moved his lips toward hers.

Good God, was that really happening?

Was he going to kiss her again?

Nadia couldn't believe that. And neither couldn't Sherlock.

But he was going to do it.

And he did it.

Nadia pushed him away with awe. "Sherlock, I had so many disappointments in my life. Don't hurt me. I'm not throwaway, do you understand?" And she marched to the bedroom that once belonged to her mother.

"No. You're not throwaway. And I would never hurt you, Nadia." Sherlock breathed to himself. Yes, he would never do it. Not on purpose. Because he felt it. Love.

It was it, wasn't it? Love? Some kind of it?

Feelings were definitely not his area. Like the song said, love was a mystery. A mystery that even he couldn't solve.

But there was a more important mystery that he had to solve. It was time to start with his plan. There was no time for distractions.

On the bedroom, Nadia explored the division. She felt her mother's presence there and that was comforting.

She collapsed on the bed, with tears falling through her face, analysing her feelings for Sherlock.

She was in love with him. She was unconditionally and undoubtedly in love with him. She loved every single thing on him. His dark curly hair that made him look like a little boy, his shiny, piercing blue eyes, his velvety, deep baritone voice… She even loved his cockiness and his arrogance. He was so mysterious. And so out of reach.

She felt stupid.

Nadia tried not to think about him. She wanted him to be happy. Even if her feelings were not corresponded, she wanted it so.

If Sherlock was fine, then she was fine too.

**So, did you like it? **

**The song is 'Mr. Curiosity' by Jason Mraz. Listen to Lena Meyer-Landrut's version. It's beautiful. I recommend it. **


	14. The Docks

**Hello! Long time, no see! Yeah, I didn't post for a while. Sorry, but I had no time (and no internet but my cousin's as I wasn't home). But from now on, I'm all yours. This chapter will be short but I hope you like it. I'll post as soon as possible and write a longer chapter next time. **

Chapter Fourteen

THE DOCKS

"May I come in?" Nadia heard John's voice.

"Of course." Nadia said. "Come in."´

"Are you OK?" John questioned. Nadia's eyes were red. She has been crying. John knew it. Living with Sherlock Holmes gave fruits.

"Yes, I'm OK." Nadia lied.

"No, you're not. You've been crying. What's going on?" John inquired.

"John…" Nadia started, wanting to take that weight out of her chest. "Have you ever been in love with someone out of your reach? Someone who doesn't correspond to your feelings?"

John giggled. "Oh, of course I've been. Who haven't?" John smiled friendly. "It's Sherlock, isn't it?"

"How do you know?"

"Simple deduction." John said. They both laughed. "Nadia, I live with Sherlock for a long time and I never saw him act like that. Sherlock may be a dick but he has a good heart. He cares about you, trust me. He just… He doesn't know how to deal with feelings. Emotions are an anathema for him."

"I only distract him…"

"No, that's not true. On the contrary. You've been a great help. Even Sherlock himself admits that." John assured. He put his hand on her shoulder. "Be patient with him, Nadia."

Nadia smiled. "You're a good friend, John. Sherlock is very lucky. I would like to have a friend like you."

"Well, I can be your friend, if you want to." John said. Nadia gave him a hug. The young doctor returned the gesture. "Thank you, John."

"You can count on me whenever you need." John said. "And with Sherlock too. Just give him time."

"I will, John." Nadia said. "I will."

Sherlock called Thomas O'Connor. The plan was afoot.

"Here's what we have to do." Sherlock stated. "We follow Fergus Kavanagh. The Scotland Yard is with us. I already called Lestrade. If we catch Fergus Kavanagh in the act, he won't get away with his crimes."

"Yeah, but there's a problem." John noted. "We're in Dublin. This is not Scotland Yard's jurisdiction. We'll be in trouble, Sherlock."

"Haven't you heard O'Connor? Dublin's policemen are in his pocket." Sherlock recalled. "Do you have any better idea?"

"No." John admitted.

"It's our chance. If we get Fergus Kavanagh, we get The Blue Rose murderer."

"I've a bad feeling about this, but I'm on it." John said. "I want to put him behind bars for everything he has done."

"I want that too, John." Sherlock said. Sherlock shot a gaze to Nadia. Her cheeks were getting warm.

"So, if we catch Fergus Kavanagh…" Nadia concluded. "…My father…" It was still hard for her to believe that she was a gangster's daughter. It made her feel dirty. "…we'll catch who murdered Jack Sullivan, Theresa and Miles Armstrong. And it will be all over. For good."

"Yes." Sherlock acquiesced. "Exactly."

"Don't worry, Nadia. Everything will be fine." John said to her, watching her worried gaze.

"I hope so. I don't want you to get hurt." Nadia said.

"It's O'Connor." Sherlock announced, checking the text. "Everything is ready. Nadia, you stay here with your grandfather and wait until we come back."

"Right." Nadia nodded, stroking Bianchi's back. (Sherlock brought their stuff from the hotel, as Lord Franklin put his house at their disposal for the time they would spend in Ireland.

"Good luck, Mr Holmes. Dr Watson." Lord Russell said.

"Be careful." Nadia asked, with pleading eyes.

"We will." Sherlock said, staring at her before they left.

The night came. They followed Fergus Kavanagh on Thomas O'Connor's car. Lestrade was also there. He was going to the docks. Of course. He has people working on the port. Who would suspect from a stevedore, a supervisor or a similar worker? The drugs were hidden somewhere on the cargo, delivered and nobody would know a thing.

"There he is." Thomas O'Connor pointed.

The man has grey hair and was well-dressed, with golden glasses. No one would suspect from man like that.

"Very good. Now, you, Lestrade, and you, O'Connor, stay here on guard. John and I will sneak into them. When I say, you come and get them."

"Got it." O'Connor nodded.

"Sherlock…" Lestrade warned. "…If this don't work and we get in trouble, I'll arrest you!"

"As you could do it." Sherlock smirked. "Lestrade, without me, your miserable life would be dull. Besides, you need me, remember?"

"Yes. Unfortunately." Lestrade sighed.

"Let's go."

Hidden behind the whole lot of containers, Sherlock and John knocked out two of the guards and dressed their clothes. Disguised, they got back to work.

Fergus Kavanagh, aka The Scorpion, was talking with a fat man with black beard. It was the supervisor, Sherlock deduced. Married - The wedding ring on his finger said that - and father of two kids that could be seen on a small photograph on his wallet, where he put the money that Fergus Kavanagh gave him.

"How long will we be on that guy's orders?" The supervisor demanded to know.

"This is necessary, Bob." Fergus Kavanagh said. "With his money and power, our business will increase."

"We don't know a thing about him! We don't know his name! We never saw his face! Like you, The Scorpion. Can we trust him?"

"It's safer to be this guy's friend that his enemy." Kavanagh said.

"What about your daughter?" Bob inquired. "Do you have plans for her? With that sleuth and his friend around her, we have no chance. She knows too much."

"Yes, she knows." Kavanagh mused. "Catherine was smart. She hid that bloody information somewhere we would never look. And Nadia… She is a splinter in our minds."

"So, what do you suggest?" Bob questioned. "We can't kill her."

"Of course not." Kavanagh snapped. "She had valuable information. And you know my orders. She's a Kavanagh, like it or not."

"She's your daughter. If she was on our side…"

Kavanagh laughed. "You think so? Her mother wasn't reasonable. Why would she be? But that doesn't matter. We take care of that later." The Scorpion looked at his watch. "I have to go. I see that everything is in order here. Any problem, call me."

"OK."

There was no chance to get The Scorpion. His car was near and he went away.

But they had somebody else.

"Hey, boss." Sherlock called Bob, faking perfectly the Irish accent. "We got a problem. Can you get here for a minute?"

Reluctantly, Bob came.

"What the hell is going on?"

"This." John said with a smirk. Lestrade and O'Connor appeared, pointing their guns.

"So…" Sherlock started. "Robert O'Malley, supervisor, married and father of two kids. Your salary is not enough to support your family, so you got into dirty business. You're into drug dealing for money. Not for you, but for your family. Your kids. But trust me: It's not worth to dirty our hands like that."

"Who are you?"

"Sherlock Holmes. Consulting detective."

"Ah, you're that sleuth. And this must be your pet."

"Oh, shut up!" John snapped.

"Detective Inspective Lestrade. Scotland Yard. And you're under arrest for drug dealing. Of course, we can make you a special deal if you cooperate."

"The Scotland Yard can't do anything here. You're in Dublin, not in London."

"But I can." Thomas O'Connor said. "Thomas O'Connor. Interpol. Now, don't make a fuss and come with us."

"All right. All right." Bob said, scared. "I'll go with you and tell you everything I know."

"Good." Sherlock grinned.


	15. M Is For Menace

Chapter Fifteen

M IS FOR MENACE

"All right. What do you know?" Thomas O'Connor inquired, on the Interpol's interrogation room.

"All that you said about Fergus Kavanagh business is true." Bob told. "But now there are people who shouldn't know about that. The siege got thigh. Until that guy appeared."

"What guy?"

"I don't know. He only talks with Kavanagh. By phone. We don't know who he is, how he is, we never saw his face. All I know is that the guy gives money to Kavanagh so he can increase his business. Besides…"

"Besides what?" Sherlock asked.

"The guy in question was the one who told Kavanagh where his daughter was and everything about Catherine in the Witness Protection Program." Bob revealed. "He tracked her and Kavanagh sent his men go after her and get the USB stick."

"And how has he that information?"

"I don't know. I swear. The guy has means. Kavanagh comes to him when he needs to."

"How long was that?"

"A month ago, I think." Bob mused.

"Anything else?"

"The think I know about the guy is that his name begins with an M."

"An M?" Sherlock asked, raising his eyebrow.

"It must begin with an M. When he texts Kavanagh, he signs with that letter." Bob said.

"Thank you, Bob. You're not as idiot as I thought." Sherlock smirked.

However, Sherlock was pale. More pale than he was. Kavanagh has a sponsor. And he was not a government or a police member. Kavanagh wouldn't take that risk.

Bob was released, with the promise of protection.

"Sherlock, what's wrong, mate?" John asked his friend when they left. Sherlock didn't answer. He just shot him a cold gaze.

"Oh, no! Not that bloody we-both-know-what's-going-on-here face." John moaned. "Sherlock, please, stop acting mysterious and tell what the hell is going on!"

"Kavanagh has a sponsor. Not someone from the police or the government. It would be a matter of time until someone spills the beans about him."

"Now we have one more mystery to solve: Who is that sponsor?" John mused.

"I already know who he is. It's so obvious. Who else would help a criminal to commit his crimes and pay them without being caught? Who does that for a living? We both know who he is, John! M, remember? M!"

"Oh, no. You've got to be kidding. You're not telling that is… _him_? Again?"

"Yes. Him. Again." Sherlock nodded. "Moriarty."

"Shit!" John breathed. "This is getting more dangerous."

"No doubt." Sherlock nodded.

"So, what will we do? That psycho can do anything." John said.

"Well, at least, Kavanagh is about to be caught. Did you take the photographs?"

"Yes."

"And I recorded their conversation." Sherlock said, showing him his mobile phone. "Fergus Kavanagh will be in jail soon."

"Poor Nadia." John pointed out. "Anyone would be crazy with all these happenings."

"Nadia is a very strong girl." Sherlock replied, (apparently) emotionless. "She will deal with it."

"Sherlock…" John started. It was now or never. "You care about Nadia, don't you? And don't say you don't because it's not true. I'm your friend, Sherlock. I want to see you happy."

"So you're saying that I'm happy with Nadia."

"I know you enough to notice the glint in your eyes when you look at her." John smirked.

"You know, John…" Sherlock sighed. "You're right. I… I never felt this before. For anyone. This is not right, John!"

"And why is it not right?" John insisted. "Sherlock, love is the most beautiful feeling in the world."

"Love is not an advantage." Sherlock said. "Lives are lost, hearts are broken…"

"It's better to love and lose than never love at all." John stated. "Trust me, Sherlock. I know. Do you remember Sarah?"

"The doctor from the surgery where you work." Sherlock recalled. "You broke up when she went to New Zealand."

"But, although it's over, I don't regret it." John said. "I was happy with Sarah. We spent good moments. I still remember when took her to the circus under your advice and I found out that you did it because you would go there too because of the case of the Chinese smugglers." John giggled.

"What about Mary?"

"Mary…" John sighed. He phoned her and sent e-mails. But it wasn't the same thing. He missed her. "Mary is… different. God, I would give my life for her. Literally."

"So, it's serious." Sherlock mused. "You really love her."

"You have no idea, mate…" John said, half to himself. "You have no idea."

Sherlock became serious. Sooner or later that would happen. John would find a woman and settle down.

And leave Baker Street.

Leave him.

John was his only friend. Sherlock would miss him. But then a smile came to his face. John would be happy. And so would he.

Sherlock also wanted Nadia to be happy. That girl that touched his heart, which nobody has done. She cared about him even when he didn't deserved it. She was like a fire that warmed him on a winter night.

Would it be fair to Nadia to be with someone like him? Someone who would never show his affection and had a life of darkness and danger? Nadia deserved better than that.

"Sherlock! John!" Nadia welcome them with a thigh hug. "I was so worried!"

"We're fine." Sherlock assured.

He smiled to her. Sherlock could lose himself in her beautiful brown eyes forever.

"That's what I told her a hundred times." Lord Russell said. "But she was very concerned."

"We already have substantial proofs against Fergus Kavanagh." Sherlock said. "This will be over soon, Nadia."

Nadia became straight -faced. "May I ask something? I… I want to see Fergus Kavanagh."

Russell stared at her with eyes wide open. "You can't be serious, Nadia!"

"I know that he's a criminal." Nadia said. "But he's my father. I want to… turn the page. For good."

"I understand." Sherlock said.

"It's a way to… know who I am." Nadia said.

"We already know who you are. Nadia Russell. The most kind girl that we ever met. It doesn't matter who your father was. You'll always be my… our Nadia." Sherlock stated.

"Sherlock…" Nadia started. But then she was quiet. What would she say to him?"

Someone rang the bell. Georgina, the governess opened. It was Cedric Brown. And he was angry. Very angry.

"May I know what's going on here, Holmes?" He roared. "Judge Kavanagh called me saying that you - and some guys from Scotland Yard, who, by the way, shouldn't be here at all - got a 'friend' of his and, on the top, you're accusing him!"

"I'll tell you what's going on, Mr Brown. Mr Kavanagh, also known as The Scorpion, is the head of a criminal organisation, responsible for triple murder." Sherlock declared.

"You cannot be serious." Cedric Brown said. "Listen, Mr Holmes…"

"No, you listen!" John stated. "When we said that Fergus Kavanagh is a criminal, it means that he really is!"

"And do you have concrete proofs?" Cedric Brown smirked.

"Yes, we have." Sherlock said. He handed Brown his mobile phone. "Here is a conversation with very compromising details."

"And I took photographs." John said, handing his phone.

Nadia opened her mouth to speak, but Sherlock made sign for her to be quiet.

"I'll take this 'proofs'. Brown said, taking the mobiles phones. "They were made illegally. I'll let it be this time. But next time you make trouble, I'll make you come back to England for never coming back here! Understood?"

"Yes." Sherlock groaned.

"And next time you invade my house that way, I'll talk with your superiors. Understood?" Lord Franklin stated.

And Cedric Brown left.

"Idiot!" Sherlock mumbled.

"_Idem_." John agreed.

"Well, it doesn't matter." Sherlock said. I already sent the conversation to Thomas O'Connor."

"And I sent the photographs." John said. "But, wait a minute. What about O'Connor? He knows that he was with us."

"Nothing will happen to him. If The Elite members killed him, the forensics would find the proofs. It would be a risk." Sherlock explained.

"Yeah, you're right." John agreed.

"Now, we have to work on the next step." Sherlock declared.

"But first, you'll have dinner and have some rest. It was a long day for you." Lord Russell.

"Excuse me, but…"

"I insist. My granddaughter's friends are my friends too."

So they did. At the dinner, John noticed that Sherlock didn't take his eyes off Nadia. The young nurse also stared at the consulting detective in a fondly way. Lord Russell also noticed that. He was sorry for not watching his dear granddaughter grow. But here was Sherlock Holmes, the genius. He was protecting Nadia. And Russell would be forever grateful.

At night, they were to sleep. The house had two bedrooms for the guests. Sherlock and John would sleep in each one of them. Nadia would sleep in her mother's old bedroom. Sherlock went there. The girl was sleeping so sound.

"Sherlock?"

"Oh, I apologise. I didn't want to wake you up."

"That's Ok. I just thought that something was going on."

"No. Not at all." Sherlock assured. "I just wanted to see if you were all right. Go back to sleep." He was about to leave. "Good night."

"No. Stay. Please. Stay here with me. Just for a little bit." Nadia asked.

Sherlock sighed. "OK. I will."´

"Thank you."

Sherlock sat beside her. He never felt so comfortable. "Really, you should sleep. You've been through a lot on these days."

"I know." Nadia nodded. "A lot of things happened."

"Nadia…" Sherlock started. "Probably we will not see each other again."

"Why?"

"It's always like that. You're a client. Clients go to their lives after case is solved." Sherlock stated. "But I would like to see you again."

"Why wouldn't we?" Nadia said. "London may be a big city but it's not big enough to stop us from visiting each other."

"I wish to know you in different circumstances." Sherlock sighed. "Perhaps things would be different."

Nadia smiled. "Sherlock, once again, thank you for everything." She yawned and lied down. Sherlock stoked her cheek, watching her sleep.

"No, Nadia." Sherlock whispered. "I thank you." Without resisting - He couldn't resist. He didn't want to resist. - He kissed her gently on the lips and fell asleep by her side, not without thoughts of fear.

As John said, Moriarty could do anything.


	16. Girls And Bullets

**And here's is chapter 16. Enjoy.**

Chapter Sixteen

GIRLS AND BULLETS

Sherlock woke up. Nadia was still asleep beside him. Sherlock blinked, still not believing that Nadia and he slept together. Sure that was not the first time but still… he has never been so close to a woman.

It was a beautiful sight. If angels existed, Nadia would be one of them, Sherlock thought.

Suddenly, Nadia woke up. The first thing she saw was those mesmerising blue eyes.

"Good morning." Sherlock saluted, smiling at her.

"Good morning." She replied.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked.

"Well… Yes." Nadia answered, blushing.

"Huh… Sorry." He said, with a worried glance.

"For what?" Nadia questioned.

"For… This." Sherlock nodded to the bed.

"Oh. That was… nothing. We just… slept together. You did nothing wrong. Actually, I never had such a good night sleep."

"Well… That…was…flattering." Sherlock stammered.

Nadia giggled. "You haven't smoked." She noted.

"Thanks to you." Sherlock grimaced.

"I'm glad." Nadia stated. "I would never date a man who smokes." Sherlock stared at her with eyes wide open. Nadia's cheeks became pink when she realised what she said. "I… didn't mean… When I said 'date', I wasn't referring… to you. It was… just… hypothetically. Not, that I wouldn't date you. I mean… Not that I want it… I... I better stop talking."

Sherlock chuckled, for her relieve. "You're the first woman to tell me that."

Nadia blushed, embarrassed. "I wasn't…"

"I know." Sherlock smiled. "But I must say that the man you chose will be the luckiest in the world."

"Now you are flattering me." She said, flushed.

"I'm serious." Sherlock assured, fondly. "Yesterday, you told that you like me. Nobody told me that before. You're the sweetest girl I ever met, even when I don't deserve it."

"You're wrong. You deserve. More than you think." Nadia said. "Let's take breakfast."

At the dining room.

"The more proofs we get, the sooner Kavanagh is behind bars." Sherlock stated. "Without their boss, The Elite will be more vulnerable. So, we get The Fox, the Blue Rose killer and case closed."

Nadia just ate, silent and straight-faced.

"What's wrong, Nadia?" John inquired.

"It's just… I'm not censoring you. That man is the boss of a criminal organisation. He hired people to kill. However… It's so hard. He's… my father. I feel so bad when I think that all this was perpetrated by my own flesh and blood."

"I understand." John said.

"Nadia, dear…" Lord Franklin started. "This may seem cold to you but it's the true. Your father is a criminal, so he must be punished."

"I know." Nadia nodded.

"So, what next?" John inquired his friend.

"We already have the photographs and the conversation. Thanks to O'Connor."

"Yeah, but Kavanagh already knows about it." John remembered. "And Cedric Brown will not make our lives easier."

"Indeed. He's an idiot. About O'Connor, Kavanagh will not move a finger against him. A dead Interpol policeman would attract attention." Sherlock said.

"They killed Jack Sullivan and he was a policeman, Sherlock." John recalled.

"That was in London. Who would connect him to Kavanagh there?" Sherlock stated. "Now, we have to be aware of his dirty businesses. With luck, we can get to Moriarty as well."

"Moriarty?" Nadia asked, surprised. "The guy who got you in the swimming pool? I read it on your blog. _The great game_, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, that's right." John replied. "The very same psychopath that tried to blow Sherlock and me up that day."

"He seems to be dangerous." Nadia pointed out.

"Oh, you have no idea." John sighed.

"He's a spider, Nadia." Sherlock declared, without hiding his disgust for his nemesis. "A spider that spins its web. He's a consulting criminal."

Yes, that was exactly what Moriarty was, according to Sherlock. And it was logical. Criminals came to Moriarty the same way that clients and the police came to Sherlock. It was like he was Sherlock's negative. Nadia has never been face to face with Moriarty, but she got shivers in her spine just by hearing his name.

"What has Moriarty to do with this mess?" Nadia questioned.

"He's helping your father." Sherlock said. "The supervisor didn't know but according to what he does know, everything points that Moriarty is behind this."

"Oh, god." Nadia breathed.

"Mr Holmes, if that man is as dangerous as say, then there will be great problems." Lord Russell said. "I fear for you and for Nadia."

"As I do." Sherlock whispered to himself. Sherlock was sure that Moriarty would use Nadia to hit him. He has tried it already with John. Moriarty made clear that he would "burn" Sherlock. "Burn his heart". And he would do that by hurting the people he cared.

His _friends_.

Well, he wouldn't let him.

Or the killer.

Or whoever was working for him.

He would stop them.

Stop Moriarty.

"So, what are we going to do?" John asked.

"We can use Catherine's information." Sherlock said. "Do you still have the USB stick, Nadia?"

"Yes."

"Good. Let's take a look."

Catherine's files were full of information about places and people connected to The Scorpion and his Elite. They could show it as a proof of his crimes, but the court would never accept it. Not information that was got illegally.

"Ivan Orlov. Where have I heard that name?" Sherlock mused. "Of course. He´s that Russian who was on the women business. I dismantled that net some years ago, before I met you, John." Sherlock smirked. "Luckily, we have Bob. He told us almost everything we need to know. He can use him as an informer."

"If Kavanagh haven't killed him yet." John said. "He would like to know that his supervisor spilled the beans."

"He won't do it. Bob is under Thomas O'Connor protection. From now on, Kavanagh will be more cautious. We need to talk with Bob and he will take us to them."

One of the places that were on the USB stick was a bar. And it wasn't a bar that could be trusted. The people who were there had a very suspicious look. Not a place for a young girl like Nadia, although she insisted in going with them. She hated to stay at that manor while they were risking their lives. After she convinced Sherlock and her grandfather (Not without some sulking), she went.

And here he was, Ivan Orlov.

"That guy rules this bar for Kavanagh. He's the one who brings the girls to Ireland and United Kingdom." Bob explained.

"Not willingly, I deduce." Sherlock said. He looked at a young girl with auburn hair and grey eyes. With the make-up, she looked older. But Sherlock knew that she could be 20 or less.

"Well, well, well, Mr Holmes." Ivan Orlov said. "Long time, no see."

"Yes. I see that you're back in the business. The prison taught you nothing?"

"Once you make easy money, there's nothing more to learn." The Russian smirked.

"Especially when you got a man as Fergus Kavanagh by your side." Sherlock accused.

"What do you want from here?" Ivan asked. "Send me to prison again?"

"That wouldn't be a bad idea." Sherlock said. "But I need information about The Fox."

"Like I would tell you."

"Oh, I know many ways to make people talk." Sherlock said.

"And if I don't, even so?"

"I know other people you can make you talk. And I must say that their methods are not as pleasant as mine." Sherlock assured.

"Holmes, Holmes, Holmes… You know me. I don't talk about my friends. Not even under torture." Ivan guaranteed.

"That guy killed three people. One of them was a policeman. Let's say that the Scotland is not very happy about it. They want to see this case solved. Now, be reasonable."

"No. You be reasonable and get out. Unless you have business with me. You even brought a girl." Orlov smirked at Nadia. "She would make success here."

"Not in your life, you idiot." Nadia mumbled.

"Holmes, let's go." Bob asked.

"You. You go away too, before Kavanagh finds you here. I don't want trouble with him because of you. Especially after what you've done."

"Let's go." John said.

And they left. Nadia shot a last glance to the auburn girl. Her eyes looked so sad. Sherlock was right. That girls were not there willingly. Her grey eyes denounced her east roots.

Nadia wanted to help her.

"That Russian knows more than he shows." Sherlock said.

"You bet." John agreed.

It was on a fraction of a second. A bullet almost hit Nadia. Sherlock made her duck, so she wasn't hit. A car flees, very fast.

"It was a blue _Volvo_." Nadia said.

"Did you got the plate?"

"Yes."

Another car came. A black one. Men dressed in black and took them. They arrived to a warehouse, where a blond man, well-dressed, awaited.

"Mr Holmes, the younger." The man saluted. "Nice to see you."

"Hello, Daniel." Sherlock replied, with dismay.

"Who's this guy?" John asked.

"A friend of my brother's." Sherlock answered. "Daniel Bellamy, MI6."

**So, I hope you liked this chapter. I'll try to update next week.**

**XOXO**

**Lady Schmetterling**


	17. For a Greater Good

Chapter Seventeen

FOR A GREATER GOOD

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock questioned. "Oh, I know: My dear big brother asked you to spy me!"

"If spying you is being concerned with your safety, then yes, I am spying." Daniel Bellamy said, with a smirk.

"Oh, really? Thank you." Sherlock said, sarcastically.

"That's the least you could say, after we saved your ass." Bellamy stated. "You're very welcome, by the way."

"Now, pray tell." Sherlock started with his accusing gaze. "Is it a matter of national security or is it just, as you stated, 'being concerned with my safety'? My brother loves to overreact."

"Both." Bellamy answered. "You know how dangerous this will be. How do you think the relationships between England and Ireland will be? I mean, this is obviously a case of corruption and who is investigating it? A British private eye."

"So, you mean that I can't handle this case." Sherlock said, offended.

"By all means, of course not." Daniel said. "I mean that you should take it easy. This can provoke a war, you know that. We're just…"

"Yeah, I know. Doing your job. The Queen and the Country." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"All right, girls, calm down." John said. "We are in the middle of a crisis. There are very dangerous guys and a young girl who is in danger. That's more urgent than some bloody childish feud."

"Our dear doctor is right." A familiar voice said. Mycroft Holmes appeared, with his signature black umbrella. "However, Dan is also right. Especially now, that things are becoming personal. I know who triggered this matter, my dear brother and I'm not happy by knowing it."

"Jim Moriarty." Sherlock said. "Consulting criminal and a splinter in our minds."

"Besides, don't forget you're protecting this young lady that happens to be our friend Kavanagh's daughter." Bellamy stated, staring at Nadia.

"I have nothing to do with my father!" Nadia snapped. "He killed people. Although he's my father… "

"We know, Miss Evans. But we have to have that blood ties in account." Bellamy enlightened. "Kavanagh won't move a finger against you, Miss Evans - I mean, Russell - because you're his daughter and too valuable. But who says that Moriarty won't?"

"He tried to kill her." Sherlock mused. "The bullet almost hit her."

"And Kavanagh will understand that an alliance with Moriarty is dangerous for him." Mycroft stated. "He'll be angry when he knows that someone tried to kill Nadia. You wouldn't want to be angry with Moriarty. What do you think that Moriarty will do when that happens?"

"He would kill Kavanagh." Sherlock answered. "Not only because the siege is getting tighter but also because he doesn't need him anymore. Why else would he kill him?"

"I think you know, my dear brother." Mycroft smirked, with the same deducing gaze as Sherlock's. "Well, that's all for now. Goodbye, Sherlock, and be careful. Let's go, Dan."

"What happed here?" John wondered.

Back to Russell manor, Sherlock, John and Nadia were taking in the happenings of that day.

"So he wants to kill me." Nadia mused. "Moriarty."

"We're here, Nadia." John assured. "Sherlock and I will not let that bastard make you harm."

"I know." Nadia smiled. "I trust you. Both."

"Now, Nadia, eat something and go to your bedroom. You need to rest. It was a long day for us." Sherlock said.

"Holmes is right, dear." Lord Russell said.

"All right."

And she left the living room, still straight-faced. Nadia, as she said, trusted them. With her own life. However, that was not the point. Her biggest fear was that Moriarty or someone else could hurt her friends. She couldn't handle it.

She had to do something.

"My granddaughter is a very brave girl." Lord Russell pointed. "Anyone would have a nervous breakdown in a situation like this. Her mother was strong as well." He sighed. "I just met her and I'm already proud of her."

"Yeah, she's brave." John agreed.

"Mr Russell, may I talk to you in private?"

"Of course."

John saw his friend following Lord Russell to the library. He had a vague idea of what they would talk about.

"You're in love with my daughter."

Sherlock froze. "What makes you get to that conclusion?"

"Holmes, I lived many years." Lord Russell said. "I can recognise that look. Your eyes shine every time you look at my granddaughter. It's the same shine that I had when I saw my late Amelia. And that's why I must ask you something."

"What?"

"Take care of her." Lord Russell asked. "Don't let those bandits to make her harm. I just met her and I don't want to lose her as I lost her mother. Will do that for me?"

"I… I will. But, Lord Russell, I prefer to keep her away from this."

"See? That's love." Lord Russell stated. "My dear girl. When her mother left, she was just a little bean in her belly. Now she's back a woman."

"Indeed." Sherlock said. _A beautiful, clever and strong woman. _He thought to himself. "I'm going to see how she is."

"Come in." Nadia said.

"I just wanted to see how you were." Sherlock said.

"Physically, yes. Emotionally, no." Nadia admitted. "I am the daughter of a criminal and there's a psychopath who wants to kill me and I don't know why. I… Sherlock, I'm afraid. I know I have to be brave but I'm afraid."

"You don't need to be afraid." Sherlock assured, hugging her. "I am here. And John too."

"They can hurt you."

"Don't worry about it." Sherlock said. "Did you eat? I'll only rest when you have some sugar and proteins." Sherlock smirked.

"Look who's talking!" Nadia smirked. "I have some juice here. Want some?"

"No, thank you."

"Oh, come on." Nadia insisted, making puppy eyes. "Please."

Sherlock smiled and took the juice.

But something was wrong.

He felt sleepy.

And he fell asleep.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock." Nadia said with a tear in her eye. "I'm really sorry. But have to do this. I can't let Moriarty and my father hurt you and John. I have to finish this."

Nadia was horrified. Sleeping pills. But she had to do it.

She took the USB stick, and left, trying not to be noticed.

**Well, that was short, right. But I had to update soon. I promised you to post the chapter last week but I could. Sorry. **

**But I can assure you that the next chapter will have some action! And you will understand why our dear Nadia did that.**


	18. Sweet Sacrifice

**People, chapter 18! Enjoy!**

Chapter Eighteen

SWEET SACRIFICE

"Sherlock! Sherlock, wake up!"

Sherlock opened slowly his eyes to see his friend and yawned.

"God, I thought you would wake up. What's wrong with you? I called you but you didn't hear so I went to look for you and I found you asleep. Where's Nadia?"

Sherlock blinked, taking in the happening. He knew why he fell asleep. He remembered Nadia serving him the juice. Then it happened. Of course. Sleeping pills. His heart was beating fast. Without answering John, Sherlock looks at the bag where the USB stick was supposed to be. It wasn't there. So, his suspicious were correct. Nadia took it. But why? Why has she done that?

"Has anyone seen Nadia?" Lord Russell came.

"I didn't." John said.

"She's not in the kitchen or in the bathroom." The butler said.

"I looked her everywhere but I didn't find her." The governess said.

"No!" Sherlock breathed, realising. "God, no!"

"Sherlock, can you tell us please, what the hell is going on?"

"She left!" Sherlock told. "And I know exactly where she went."

"Where?" Lord Russell asked, panicking.

"She went to see Kavanagh. On her own. That's why she gave me juice to drink. It had sleeping pills on it, so I would sleep and I wouldn't stop her." Sherlock explained. "She took the USB stick. I'm sure that she took it to Kavanagh in exchange of leaving us alone."

"She got mad!" John said. "What if they hurt her? Worse, what if she finds Moriarty?"

"Holmes, please, find her!" Lord Russell begged, with tears in his eyes. "I already lost a daughter. I don't want to lose my granddaughter as well."

"I will." Sherlock assured, determined. "John, let's go."

Nadia took a taxi to the Interpol headquarters. If she wanted to find Fergus Kavanagh, that was where should start. A man with bronze-coloured hair approached her.

"May I help you, miss?" The man said.

"Huh… I'm looking of Fergus Kavanagh, the judge. Some people here know him, so I thought that someone here could take me to him."

"May I know the motive?" The man inquired.

"I'm just… the daughter of an old friend of his." She lied. "I wanted to pay him a visit."

"This is the Interpol headquarters. You shouldn't come here like that." He scolded. "I'll take to him. Come."

Nadia was surprised that someone would do that easily. Too easily. She got suspicious. She shouldn't trust that man. Her instinct told her that. But she went with him. She had to see her father, no matter the risks.

"By the way, my name is Cedric Brown." He introduced. "I'm a prosecutor."

"Nadia… Evans." She said, using her mother's fake surname.

"Pleasure."

He took her to the parking lot. Nadia got pale when she saw his car.

A blue Volvo.

"Miss…" He said, smirking. "Before we go, give me your phone."

Nadia stepped back, scared. Cedric Brown grabbed her and took her mobile phone from her pocket by force. He tossed the gadget to the floor and stepped it, breaking it.

"Just for precaution." He said. "Now, be a good girl and come with me."

Kavanagh lived in a very cosy white manor. Sherlock called Thomas O'Connor about Nadia's disappearance. The Irish Detective Inspector gladly offered his help. Nadia was Catherine's daughter, after all.

Kavanagh wasn't there and neither was Nadia. Sherlock searched every corner of it. Until he saw some boxes in his dressing cabinet. Inside the boxes were…

"Bills." Sherlock noticed. "A plane ticket to London. From Cedric Brown. What was he doing in London? And what are his bills doing here?" Sherlock frowned. "He's involved. He's from The Elite. And Kavanagh was hiding his track."

"Cedric pointed out yesterday, when I was talking about you in a corny conversation, that one day he would like to go to London, as he has never been there. As I can see he lied." Thomas Brown said.

Something clicked on Sherlock's brain. "It was exactly on the day of Jack Sullivan's death." Sherlock red the bill. "Have you ever seen him in boots?"

"He never wears boots. Well, excepting a pair that he got from his army time."

"The shot was very precise. Cold-blooded. Only a military or an ex-military could fire like that." Sherlock mused. Then he smirked. "John, you know what this means."

"Cedric Brown is The Fox. He's the killer."

"If Nadia went to find Fergus Kavanagh, he would probably know." Sherlock said. "Where's Fergus Kavanagh, after all?"

"No idea." O'Connor said,

"What if Nadia went to the Interpol headquarters? People knew Catherine there, so they knew Kavanagh as well."

"Wait, Cedric is there!" O'Connor said.

"Damn it! Who knows what he would do to Nadia."

"There's a computer here. John, remember our first case? When we first met? _The Study in Pink_?"

"How could I forget?" John grinned. "Of course! You'll use Nadia's phone to track her, like you did with the murderer cabbie with the pink lady's phone!"

"Exactly!" Sherlock stated. He turned the laptop on, logged in with Nadia's e-mail and her password - It didn't take many seconds for Sherlock to figure it out - but in vain. The phone's track disappeared.

"Clever. He got rid of her phone so she could ask for help." Sherlock mused. "There's only one thing to do: If I can't track Nadia's phone, I can track his." Sherlock opened another Internet window and went to his website. He posted.

_If anyone of 221B is online, reply to this. I need you. SH_

Luckily, the reply didn't take long.

_221B online. What can we do for you, Captain? Virus_

Smiling, Sherlock typed his reply.

_You're the right person. I need you to hack Irish prosecutor Cedric Brown. I want his password to track his phone. SH_

_Got it. Virus_

It didn't take long until Virus send him Cedric Brown's e-mail and password in a private message.

_Thank you, Virus. _ Sherlock replied.

_You're always welcome, Capitan. Rebecca, Raz and Bobby send their love. Virus_

So, Sherlock logged in with Brown's password. He was in George's Quay Plaza as the screen showed.

"So, George's Quay Plaza. Let's go."

Nadia and Cedric arrived to George's Quay Plaza. There was a warehouse and Cedric Brown forced her to come in. Nadia just had time to take off one of her earrings and toss it to the ground without Brown notice. She knew that Sherlock would find where she was and go after her, as soon as he wakes up. She was still regretting what she has done, but it was for Sherlock and John's safety.

There is a move in chess that consists in sacrifice the piece to checkmate the opponent king. She was that piece.

"What are we doing here?"

"To meet your father, Fergus Kavanagh."

"How do you know that he's my father?" Nadia wondered, frightened.

"Oh, I knew your mother. Well, we were not exactly buddies. I worked with the Interpol at her time. She didn't know that I was who I am. You look like her." He smirked.

"So I heard." Nadia said. "Where is he? Where is my father?"

"Patience, Miss Russell. Patience." He said. "He'll come." With a snap of his finger, a group of men that Nadia never saw in her life grabbed her and tied her to a chair.

"Now, you've a very naughty girl, haven't you? Like mother, like daughter. She was a very nosy bitch as well."

"Shut up! Don't talk about her!" Nadia snapped.

"Oh, you still defend your dear mother even after finding her dirty little secret?" Cedric Brown quipped. "How touching." He started playing with a pen that he had before in his pocket.

Nadia recognised the pen. It was the same pen that was in Miles Armstrong's shop.

"You…" Nadia gasped. "Murderer! You killed Theresa! And Jack Sullivan! And Miles Armstrong." She was bursting into tears. "And you tried to kill us!"

"I had to!" He smirked. "That Sherlock Holmes and his pet were being very busybody."

"If you touch them, I swear…"

"You're not in position of threatening, my dear." Cedric Brown tutted.

"Listen, I have something that you want." Nadia said. "I'll give it to you if you leave Sherlock and John alone."

"Will you really?" Brown smirked.

"I assure you."

Cedric Brown laughed. "You don't understand. I have a new employer. A more powerful employer than your daddy."

"Who?" Nadia inquired. "Moriarty?"

"You know about him. Clever, very clever."

"CEDRIC!" A man came in, livid. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?"

Cedric Brown smirked. "Nadia Evans, let me introduce you Fergus Kavanagh, your daddy."

**So, people, father and daughter are now face to face. What's going to happen? You'll see next chapter.**

**And what did you think of Virus? Yeah, I saw that you liked the 221B kids, so I give you this gift. At least with one of them. Lol But don't worry. It will not be the last time that you will read about them.**


	19. I Love You

Chapter Nineteen

I LOVE YOU

"Father…" Nadia said.

"Nadia." Fergus Kavanagh turned to Cedric Brown. "May I know what is she doing here?"

"Don't you want the USB stick, Fergus?" Cedric Brown teased. "She has it and she'll give it to you willingly."

"You tried to kill her! I told you that I wanted her alive!"

"Change of plans." Cedric Brown told.

"You only change of plans when I say so!" Fergus Kavanagh stated. "I am in charge!" Then, he turned to his daughter. "Nadia, don't make things difficult. Where is it?"

"In my trousers pocket." Nadia answered. Kavanagh put his hands on her pocket and took the USB stick. "Now, will you leave Sherlock and John alone?"

"No, and I won't leave you alone either." Cedric said.

"Cedric!"

"Fergus, Fergus, Fergus… You don't understand that you're not my boss anymore." He grinned.

"Of course not! You're at the orders of Moriarty!" Nadia snapped. "Because he pays you more than my father."

"When you meet Moriarty, you'll learn that it is safer to be his friend than his enemy. Besides, it is very advantageous."

"Define 'advantageous'. Nadia quipped.

Cedric Brown laughed. "One has to make for living."

"Yeah, killing is too easy, isn't it?" Nadia mumbled.

"Dearie, I'm a trained hired gun for years. You're right when you say that is too easy."

"You killed Jack Sullivan because he knew all about our dirty business." Nadia accused.

"I sent him." Fergus Kavanagh told.

"And then you killed Theresa because you thought that my mother told her about the USB. It happens that you were wrong. And Miles Armstrong…"

"He was a traitor!" Fergus Kavanagh hissed. "He had it coming."

Nadia bit her lip. "My Mother never told me about you. Since I was a little girl, I never knew who my Father was. At first, I was upset, but you know what? Now I'm glad that she didn't. You're the biggest disappointment I ever had."

"Life is full of disappointments." Cedric Brown said. "You should know that better than anyone. But that doesn't matter. You're here, you'll die and your friends will die as well."

"I told you to not kill her!" Kavanagh snapped.

"Moriarty wants her dead."

"Moriarty is not in charge."

Cedric Brown snapped his fingers and a red dot appeared in Kavanagh's forehead. "Now he is." A shot and Fergus Kavanagh fell on the floor. Nadia's scream echoed in the room. She cried. She forgot that Fergus Kavanagh was the boss of a criminal organisation. He was her father, no matter what he has done.

"I would rather kill him myself. But I don't want to get my hands dirty because of him." Cedric Brown smirked.

Nadia just cried.

"Monster…" She breathed. "You're a monster. You and Moriarty."

"Tut, tut. Now, now, hush and be a good girl or you'll be shot as well. See?" the infamous red dot appeared in her forehead this time.

Nadia was never so afraid in her life.

"Nadia's earing." Sherlock noticed when they arrived to George's Quay Plaza and examined the surroundings. "She's here." Carefully, they entered in the warehouse.

"They must have men watching." Sherlock warned.

"You don't say." John mocked. "I take care of those clowns."

"Me too." Thomas O'Connor said.

"And I'll find Nadia." Sherlock nodded.

Meanwhile, a miscellany of thoughts passed through Nadia's mind. She thought about her grandfather, her dear grandfather that she just met. She thought about Mrs Hudson, the nice landlady that welcomed her to 221B Baker Street like a daughter. Just as Theresa did with her. She thought about John. Her friend. Her brother in bond.

And she thought about Sherlock.

The love of her life, mutual or not. It didn't matter.

She didn't want them to be killed.

And if she had to die… So be it.

Cedric Brown's mobile phone went off. "Hello' Yes, I got her." A pause. "As you wish." He turned off. "Don't worry, dear. You will die but not now. We'll just wait that detective of yours to come."

John and Thomas O'Connor used their fighting skills to knock Kavanagh's men who were on guard. While Sherlock grabbed his gun just in case, looking for Nadia. Slowly, he entered in a room. There she was, tied to a chair, scared.

And Fergus Kavanagh was there. But lying dead on the floor. Sherlock froze when he saw the red dot in her forehead.

"Ah, here you are, Mr Holmes." Cedric Brown saluted sarcastically.

"Let her go." Sherlock demanded, pointing his gun to Brown. "I found everything. Your military boots, your bills… It's over, Brown. You're surrounded. I already called the Irish police. And the Scotland Yard.´"

"You're bluffing."

"How can you be so sure?" Sherlock him a smug smile, shoving his phone with his free hand.

"Smart. Very smart." Another red dot appeared in Sherlock forehead.

"You're also smart. Only a prosecutor, with connections in London and access to everything in Irish justice could murder, manipulate proofs and get away with it. The police will see Kavanagh's body." Sherlock said. "If they add it to the proofs I have, you'll be in prison for a long time."

"Perhaps. But I'm not the one who'll be killed." Cedric Brown smirked. "No, I'm not talking about you. I'm talking about this beauty here."

"What if I kill you right here, right now?"

"That won't stop the sniper of killing her. I mean, the snipers." Cedric Brown retorted.

"Oh, Moriarty's little friends. How I missed them."

"He's your enemy, right? I wouldn't like to be in your shoes. Having an enemy like him? Not good. Not good indeed. You're really in a spot, Holmes."

"So are you." John's captain voice was heard. The ex-army doctor pointed his gun to Cedric Brown.

"You brought your friend. Good. Now we have more people to play." Cedric Brown joked.

"As you played with me, Cedric?" Thomas O'Connor came in. "We were friends for years, Cedric! Years! And now I learned that you're a bloody bastard! It looks like I was right by not telling you about this whole mess."

"As an Interpol officer, Thomas, you shall mark this golden rule: Don't trust anyone." Cedric Brown replied.

"You're damn right, you son of a bitch." Thomas O'Connor mumbled while pointed his gun to Cedric Brown.

"I wouldn't do it if I were you." He got closer to Nadia.

"If you touch her…"

"Take it easy, Holmes." He untied Nadia and pushed her to be in right in front of him. "You may arrest me, Holmes. You may even kill me. But that will cost your little princess's life. Moriarty would love to see this, if he is not seeing this now. Poor Sherlock! The great genius detective couldn't save this cute young lady's life."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

Sherlock fired his gun. The bullet, contrary to what everybody thought, didn't hit Brown but the sniper's arm.

"Very well, Holmes. Bravo. Pity. Such a clever man. Sorry, Moriarty." Cedric Brown pointed a gun to Sherlock. "But a detective like you is a splinter in people's minds and that's why I shall not let you live. Do you know this gun, Holmes? Of course you know. You know a determined gun when you see one."

"It's a police gun. Jack Sullivan's gun."

"Bingo." Cedric Brown smirked. "How ironic, isn't it? You consult the police and you will die by a police gun."

A shot.

Blood.

But not Sherlock's.

Nadia's.

She had run to the front of Sherlock and was hit in his place.

"NADIA!"

Sherlock's scream didn't came from his throat. It came from his heart. He held the hurt girl in his arms.

And then something happened to him. Something that hadn't happen to him for a very long time: Tears felt from his eyes.

"Nadia, please! Open your eyes! Don't leave me!"

That was when he whispered those magical words that he never imagined to say.

"_I love you._"

**Whoa, cliff hanger here. What will happen to poor Nadia? **

**Next chapter will be the last and I plan to do something big for it.**


	20. Happy Ending

Chapter Twenty

HAPPY ENDING

Another case solved.

Cedric Brown was arrested.

But the price was high. Too high.

Sherlock's heart skipped a beat when he saw Nadia being transported in the ambulance to the hospital. Would she die? No! She couldn't! She didn't deserve it. She was too young. She had her whole file ahead. After all that she has been through, she deserved to be happy. Ashe deserved to live. The idea of never seeing her smile again, of never hearing her voice again, was unbearable.

John stared at his friend. The ex-army doctor could see the pain in Sherlock's eyes.

Lestrade was there too. The detective inspector said nothing. He knew that whatever he said, it wouldn't make things better. Lestrade wanted to do something to that eccentric pain in the behind that helped Scotland Yard for years. He limited himself to tell him he would be there if he needed something and wished Nadia to get well. He waited for a harsh reply from Sherlock but not a word came from the consulting detective's mouth excepting a low 'Thank you'.

John accompanied his friend to the hospital. They waited for hours, but it seemed an eternity. Time passed at a snail's pace. John tried to convince Sherlock to rest and eat something. In vain. Suddenly, Sherlock left.

John looked for him for him every corner in the hospital. Until he found him at the hospital's small chapel.

"I never thought that you were religious." John pointed out.

"And I'm not." Sherlock said. "I just… I don't know, John. Believe it or not… I just wanted to believe in something. To believe in a miracle."

John didn't know how to reply to that.

"How can He? How can He take a girl's life? A girl that just started to live?"

"Well, everything happens for a reason. But that doesn't mean that Nadia will… That the worst will happen. Sherlock, we must have hope. Nadia will be all right. She'll survive."

"Do you really think so?"

"I just know. She's a very strong girl. She's a fighter." John smiled. "I understand how are you feeling, Sherlock. When I lose a patient, I also feel like that, impotent, angry…"

"She's more than a client, John. She's…"

"The woman you love." John stated. "Is that a tear?"

"Shut up!" Sherlock hissed. He chuckled weakly but he couldn't hide his tears anymore. For the first time in a very long time, Sherlock Holmes cried.

John hugged his friend. "Sherlock, no matter what happens, I am here for you. Today, tomorrow, always."

Sherlock thanked him by hugging him back.

"I'm going to see Nadia."

"Me too. I just want to be here for a while. Can you leave me alone for some minutes?"

"Of course."

And john left. It was so strange, a man like Sherlock Holmes, to be there.

"Are you God? I mean the father or the son?" He asked to Jesus Christ image. "Well, that doesn't matter anyway. Oh, if John heard me, he would laugh. I know nothing or almost nothing about you. Maybe I deleted it, like did with the solar system." Sherlock smiled sadly. "I… I just want to ask you something. Yes, I know I don't deserve it but can you please listen to me? Just this once? Let Nadia live. Please. I beg you. I'll give my life in change, if needed, but please, let her live."

And he left the chapel, not without shooting a begging glance to the image one last time. He just hopped that his prayer was heard, if it was a prayer, Sherlock has no sure. But in his heart - yeas, he had a heart - there was hope.

Nadia would wake up. She would live.

Lord Russell was sitting in the waiting room. Tears felt through his face.

"Any news?" Sherlock asked.

"No." Lord replied. "My granddaughter. I just met her and now I'm going to lose her, like I lost her mother." He cried.

"No, you won't." John assured. "Nadia will wake. Nadia will be all right. We just have to wait. To have faith and hope."

"John is right." Sherlock sighed. "Let's just wait."

The doctor came out. They rose instantly, anxious and scared. "How is she?" Lord Russell asked.

"She will be all right. He stabilised her.

A collective relieve sigh came from their mouths.

"Can we see her?"

"Of course. She must wake up in a few minutes. Must only one at a time, please. She must rest.

"You can go first, Holmes." Lord Russell said.

"Thank you."

Nadia opened slowly her eyes. Sherlock was there. His eyes were red. Has he been crying? Of course he has.

"Hello." Sherlock smiled.

"Hi." Nadia replied.

"How are you feeling?"

"With pain. And tired." She said. "As for the rest, I'm fine."

"You shall not make efforts. You were shot. You must rest."

"What about Cedric Brown?"

"Arrested. And the other Fergus Kavanagh's men too. Lestrade just called me."

"Good." Nadia sighed. "When is my father's funeral? Do you know?"

"No, I don't."

"I know, he was a horrible man, a criminal but he didn't deserve to die." Nadia stated.

"You're good, Nadia." He said. "Too good. Do you remember when you told that everybody has a heart? Well, you definitely have one. It's pure and full of love."

"As yours." She said.

"No, Nadia. On the contrary." Sherlock replied.

"Wrong." She smiled fondly and kissed him chastely and softly one the lips. "You're a good man, Sherlock. You just didn't notice that."

"Nadia, I…"

Nadia shut him up, putting a finger on his lips. "You don't need to say it, Sherlock. I already heard it. And I love you too."

"Nadia, you deserve a normal life." Sherlock said, fondly, holding her hand. "You'll be always in danger if you stay with me."

"Normal is boring." Nadia grimaced. Sherlock laughed. Nadia laughed too. Sherlock never left so happy."

"So, what are you going to do? Now you have a family. Your grandfather."

"Yeah, I was thinking…" Nadia said. "I have my house and my job in London but can visit him whenever I can."

"That's good. Your grandfather will be happy to know that he still has his dear granddaughter."

Nadia giggled.

"I'm going to call him." Sherlock said.

"OK."

Sherlock kissed her. "I love you, my angel."

"I love you too." She said. "Sherlock, I know you're the prince charming from the fairy tales but who said that I won't be happy ever after with you?"

"I'll do whatever I can for it." Sherlock smiled.

A week after the events, Nadia was fully recovered. Before they leave, Lord Russell decided to make a party to celebrate her recovery and to introduce her to society. Sherlock stared at her, dazzled. She was beautiful with her long dark waved hair and her black dress. _Lovesong_ by Adele played and they started dancing. He noticed John making a call. He was telling Mary the good news. And apparently, his sister Harry (Short for Harriet) stopped drinking (again) and came back to her wife Clara (again). "I hope this time is for good" John begged.

"I think we'll have a happy announcement very soon." Sherlock sighed. "But that would happen sooner or later."

"You'll miss him." Nadia stated.

"Yes, I will." Sherlock said.

"Will you excuse me for a minute?"

"Of course, love." She said.

Sherlock approached his friend. He cleared his throat. "So, John, as I stated before that is serious."

"Yes." John said.

"So, when will you… propose her?" Sherlock questioned.

"When we get home." John said. "It bothers you, doesn't it? That I have someone."

"No. Not at all. I mean… Yes, it bothers me. You'll leave Baker Street."

"That doesn't mean that I'll leave you." John replied. "OK, that didn't sound good."

"No, it didn't." They laughed.

"For God's sake, Sherlock, I'm an ex-soldier. A man of action. I need adventure. I'm ready for our next case." John said in a funny way.

"John, you're lazy, nevertheless you're such an adrenaline addict."

The two friends laughed. Sherlock got back to dancing with Nadia while John observed them with a smile on his face.

They didn't know that a man with a Westwood suit observed them too.

"Oh, isn't love so beautiful? Enjoy it, Sherlock… while you can."

**So, did you like it? I'm thinking on making a sequel. What do you think? And I promise that the 221B will have an important part on it. I'll write as soon as I have a plot.**

**Thank you for your support. It keeps me motivated.**

**Kiss kiss**

**Lady Schmetterling**


End file.
